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I 



ELEMENTS OF MORALS: 



SPECIAL APPLICATION OF THE MORAL LAW TO THE 

DUTIES OF THE INDIVIDUAL AND OF 

SOCIETY AND THE STATE. 




\ 



.^' 



PAUL JANET, 



MEMBER OF THE INSTITUTE, OF THE ACADEMY OF MORAL AND POLITICAL 

SCIENCES, AUTHOR OF THEORY OF MORALS, HISTORY OF MORAL 

AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY, FINAL CAUSES, ETC., ETC. 



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TRANSLATED BY 



Mrs. Q.^-efr-'^C;^ R S O ISr 

OCT 20 1§84;^ » ( 
A . S . B A iTn E S & CO., 

NEW YORK AND CHICAGO 



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188U, by A. S. Barnes & Co. 



PREFACE 



THE Elements de Morale, by M. Paul Janet, which we 
here present to the educational world, translated from 
the latest edition, is, of all the works of that distinguished 
moralist, the one best adapted to college and school purposes. 
Its scholarly and methodical arrangement, its clear and direct 
reasonings, its felicitous examples and illustrations, drawn 
with rare impartiality from the best ancient and modern 
writers, make of this study of Ethics, generally so unattrac- 
tive to young students, one singularly inviting. It is a sys- 
tem of morals, practical rather than theoretical, setting forth 
man's duties and the application thereto of the moral law. 
Starting with Preliminary JVotions, M. Janet follows these 
up with a general division of duties, establishes the general 
principles of social and individual morality, and chapter by 
chapter moves from duties to duties, developing each in all 
its ramifications with unerring clearness, decision, and com- 
pleteness. Never before, perhaps, was this diihcult subject 
brought to the comprehension of the student with more con- 
vincing certainty, and, at the same time, with more vivid 
and impressive illustrations. 

The position of M. Paul Janet is that of the i-eligious 
moralist. 

" He supplies," says a writer in the British Quarterly Re- 
view* in a notice of his Theory of Morals, " the very element 

* No. CLIX.— July 1, 1884, pp. 246, 247. 



IV PREFACE. 

to which Mr. Sully gives so little place. He cannot conceive 
morals without religion. Stated shortly, his position is, that 
moral good is founded upon a natural and essential good, and 
that the domains of good and of duty are absolutely equivalent. 
So far he would seem to follow Kant ; but he diiFers from 
Kant in denying that there are indefinite duties : every duty, 
he holds, is definite as to its form ; but it is either definite or 
indefinite as to its application. As religion is simply belief in 
the Divine goodness, morality must by necessity lead to reli- 
gion, and is like a flowerless plant if it fail to do so. He holds 
with Kant that practical faith in the existence of God is the 
postulate of the moral law. The two things exist or fall to- 
gether." 

This, as to M. Janet's position as a moralist; as to his 
manner of treating his subject, the writer adds : 

" . . . it is beyond our power to set forth, with approach 
to success, the admirable series of reasonings and illustrations 
by which his positions are established and maintained." 

M. Janet's signal merit is the clearness and decision which 
he gives to the main points of his subject, keeping them ever 
distinctly in view, and strengthening and supplementing them 
by substantial and conclusive facts, drawn from the best 
sources, framing, so to say, liis» idea in time-honored and 
irrefutable truths. 

The law of duty thus made clear to the comprehension of 
the student, cannot fail to fix his attention ; and between fiix- 
ing the attention and striking root, the difference is not very 
great. 

G. K. G. 



TABLE OF OOWTENTS. 



CHAPTER PAGE 

I. — Preliminary Notions 1 

II. — Division of Duties. — General Principles of Social Moral- 
ity 33 

III. — Duties of Justice. — Duties toward Human Life 50 

IV. — Duties Concerning the Property of Others 63 

V. — Duties toward the Liberty and toward the Honor of 
Others. — Justice, Distributive and Remunerative. — 

Equity 93 

VI.— Duties of Charity and Self -Sacrifice Ill 

VII.— Duties toward the State 139 

VIII.— Professional Duties 157 

IX. — Duties of Nations among themselves. — International 

Law 182 

X.— Family Duties 190 

XI. — Duties toward One's Self. — Duties relative to the Body. 223 

XII. — Duties relative to External Goods. ... 244 

XIII.— Duties relative to the Intellect 260 

XIV.— Duties relative to the Will 281 

XV.— Religious Morality. — Religious Rights and Duties 299 

XVI. — Moral Medicine and Gymnastics 315 

Appendix to Chapter VIII 341 



ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 



CHAPTEE I. 

PRELIMIKAKT ]S"OTIOKS. 



SUMMARY. 

Starting point of morals, — Notions of common sense. 

Object and divisions of morals.— Practical morality and theoretical 
morality. 

Utility of morals. — Morals are useful : 1, in protecting us against 
the sophisms which combat them; 2, in fixing principles in the 
mind ; 3, in teaching us to reflect upon the motives of our 
actions ; 4, in preparing us for the difficulties which may arise 
in practice. 

Short resume of theoretical morality. — Pleasure and the good. — 
The useful and the honest. — Duty. — Moral conscience and moral 
sentiment. —Liberty. — Merit and demerit. — Moral responsibility. — • 
Moral sanction. 

All sciences have for their starting-point certain elementary 
notions which are furnished them by the common experience of 
mankind. There would be no arithmetic if men had not, as 
their wants increased, begun by counting and calculating, and 
if they had not already had some ideas of numbers, unity, 
fractions, etc. ; neither would there be any geometry if they 
had not also had ideas of the round, the square, the straight 
line. The same is true of morals. They presuppose a certain 
number of notions existing among all men, at least to some 
degree. Good and evil, duty and obligation, conscience, Kb- 



2 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

erty and responsibility, virtue and vice, merit and demerit, 
sanction, punishment and reward, are notions which the 
philosopher has not invented, but which he has borrowed 
from common sense, to return them agam cleared and deep- 
ened. 

Let us begin, then, by rapidly enumerating the elementary 
and common notions, the analysis and elucidation of which is 
the object of moral science, and explain the terms employed 
to express them. 

I. Starting point of morals: common notions. — All 
men distinguish the good and the bad, good actions and bad 
actions. For instance, to love one's parents, respect other 
people's property, to keep one's word, etc., is right; to harm 
those who have done us no harm, to deceive and lie, to be 
ungrateful towards our benefactors, and unfaithful to our 
friends, etc., is wrong. 

To do right is obligatory on every one — that is, it shoidd be 
done; wrong, on the contrary, should be avoided. Didy is 
that law by which we are held to do the right and avoid the 
wrong. It is also called the moral laiv. This law, like all 
laws, commands, forbids, and permits. 

He who acts and is capable of doing the right and the 
wrong, and who consequently is held to obey the moral law, 
is called a moral agent. In order that an agent may be held 
to obey a law, he must know it and understand it. In morals, 
as in legislation, no one is supposed to be ignorant of tlie lav). 
There is, then, in every man a certain knowledge of the law, 
that is to say, a natural discernment of the right and the 
wrong. This discernment is what is called conscience, or 
sometimes the moral sense. 

Conscience is an act of the mind, a judgment. But it is 
not only the mind that is made aware of the right and the 
wrong : it is the heart. Good and evil, done either by others 
or by ourselves, awaken in us emotions, affections of diverse 
nature. These emotions or affections are Avhat collectively 
constitute the moral sentiment. 



PRELIMINARY XOTIONS. 3 

It does not suffice that a man know and distinguish the 
good and the evil, and experience for the one and for the 
other different sentiments ; it is also necessary, in order to be 
a moral agent, that he be capable of choosing between them; 
he cannot be commanded to do what he cannot do, nor can 
he be forbidden to do what he cannot help doing. Tliis 
power of choosing is called liberty, ov free icill. 

A free agent — one, namely, who can discern between the 
right and the wrong — is said to be responsible for his actions ; 
that is to say, he can answer for them, give an account of 
them, suffer their consequences ; he is then their real cause. 
His actions may consequently be attributed to him, put to his 
account ; in other words, imputed to him. The agent is re- 
sponsible, the actions are imputable. 

Human actions, we have said, are sometimes good, some- 
times bad. These two qualifications have degrees in propor- 
tion to the importance or the difficulty of the action. It is 
thus we caU an action suitable, estimable, beautiful, admirable, 
sublime, etc. On the other hand, a bad action is sometimes 
but a simple mistake, and sometimes a crime. It is culpable, 
base, abominable, execrable, etc. 

If we observe in an agent the habit of good actions, a con- 
stant tendency to conform to the law of duty, this habit or 
constant tendency is called virtue, and the contrary tendency 
is called vice. 

Whilst man feels himself bound by his conscience to seek 
the right, he is impelled by his nature to seek pleasure. 
When he enjoys pleasure without any admixture of pain, he 
is happy ; and the highest degree of possible pleasure with 
the least degree of possible pain is happiness. Now, experience 
shows that happiness is not always in harmony with virtue, 
and that pleasure does not necessarily accompany right 
doing. 

And yet we lind such a separation unjust; and Ave believe 
in a natural and legitimate connection between pleasure and 
right, pain and wrong. Pleasure, considered as the conse- 



4 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. 

quence of well-doing, is called recompense ; and pain, consid- 
ered as the legitimate consequence of evil, is called punish- 
ment. 

When a man has done well he thinks, and all other men 
think, that he has a right to a recompense. When he has 
done ill they think the contrary, and he himself thinks also 
that he must atone for his wrong-doing by t chastisement. 
This principle, by virtue of which we declare a moral agent 
deserving of happiness or unhappiness according to his good 
or bad actions, is called the principle of merit and demerit. 

The sum total of the rewards and punishments attached to 
the execution or violation of a law is called sanction ; the 
sanction of the moral law will then be called moral sanc- 
tion. 

All law presupposes a legislator. The moral law will pre- 
suppose, then, a moral legislator, and morality consequently 
raises us to God. All human or earthly sanction being shown 
by observation to be insufficient, the moral law calls for a re- 
ligious sanction. It is thus that morality conducts us to the 
immortality of the soul. 

If we go back upon the whole of the ideas we have just 
briefly expressed, we shall see that at each of the steps we 
have taken there are always two contraries opposed the one 
to the other: good and evil, command and prohibition^ virtue 
and vice, merit and deme^nt, pleasure and pain, reward and 
punishment. 

Human life present's itself, then, under two aspects. Man 
can choose between the two. This power is liberty. This 
choice is difficult and laborious ; it exacts from us incessant 
efforts. It is for this reason that life is said to l)e a tn'(d, 
and is often represented as a combat. It should therefore 
not be represented as a play, but rather as a manly and 
valiant effort. Struggle is its condition, peace its prize. 

Such are the fundamental ideas morality has for its object, 
and of wliich it R(!cks, at the same time, both the principles 
and tin; applications. 



PRELIMIKARY NOTIONS. 5 

2. What is morality ? the object of morality. — Moral- 
ity may be considered as a science or as an art. 

By science we understand a totality of truths connected 
with each other concerning one and the same object. Science 
has for its object proper, knowledge. 

By art we understand a totahty of rules or precepts for 
directing activity towards a definite end; art has for its 
object proper, action. 

Science is theoretical or speculative; art is, practical. 

Morahty is a science inasmuch as it seeks to know and 
demonstrate the principles and conditions of morality ; it is 
an art inasmuch as it shows and prescribes to us its applica- 
tions. 

As science, morality may be defined : science of good or 
science of duty. 

As art, morahty may be defined : the art of right living or 
the art of right acting. 

3. Division of morality. — Morahty is divided into two 
parts : in one it studies principles, in the other, applications ; 
in the one, duty; in the other, duties. 

Hence a theoretical morahty and a practical morahty. The 
first may also be called general morality, and the second par- 
ticidar morality, because the first has for its object the study 
of the common and general character of all our duties, and 
the other especially that of the particular duties, which vary 
according to objects and circumstances. It is in the first that 
morality has especially the character of science, and in the 
second, the character of art. 

4. Utility of morality. — The utility of moral science has 
been disputed. The ancients questioned whether virtue could 
be taught. It may also be asked whether it should be taught. 
]\Iorahty, it is said, depends much more upon the heart than 
upon the reasoning faculties. It is rather by education, ex- 
ample, habit, religion, sentiment, than through theories, that 
men become habituated to virtue. If this were so, moral 
science would be of no use. 



6 ELEMElTtS OF MORALS. 

However, though it may be true that for happiness noth- 
ing can take the place of practice, it does not follow that re- 
flection and study may not very efficaciously contribute 
toward it, and for the following reasons : 

1. It often happens that evil has its origin in the sophisms 
of the mind, sophisms ever at the service of the passions. It 
is therefore necessary to ward off or prevent these sophisms 
by a thorough discussion of principles. 

2. A careful study of the principles of morality causes 
them to penetrate deeper into the soul and gives them there 
greater fixity. 

3. Morality consists not only in the actions themselves, but 
especially in the motives of our actions. An outward moral- 
ity, wholly of habit and imitation, is not yet the true morality. 
Morality must needs be accompanied by conscience and re- 
flection. So viewed, moral science is a necessary element of 
a sound education, and the higher its principles the more the 
conscience is raised and refined, 

4. Life often presents moral problems for our solution. If 
the mind is not prepared for them it will lack certainty of 
decision ; what above all is to be feared is that it will mostly 
prefer the easier and the more convenient solution. It should 
be fortified in advance against its own weakness by acquiring 
the habit of judging of general questions before events put it 
to the proof. 

Such is the utility of morality. It is of the same service 
to man as geometry is to the workman; it does not take the 
place of tact and common sense, but it guides and perfects 
them. 

It is well understood, moreover, that such a study in no- 
wise excludes, it even exacts, the co-operation of all the 
practical means we have indicated above, which constitute 
what is called education. Doctrinal teaching is but the com- 
plement and confirmation of teaching by practice and by ex- 
ample. 

5. Short resume of theoretical movzWVj.— Theoretical 



PKELIMINAEY NOTION'S. 7 

morality should, in fact, precede practical morality, and that 
is what usually takes place ; but as it presents more difficul- 
ties and less immediate applications than practical morality, 
we shall defer the developments it may give rise to, to a subse- 
quent year.* The present will be a short resume, purely 
elementary, containing only preliminary and strictly necessary 
notions. It will be an exposition of the common notions we 
have just enumerated above. 

6. Pleasure and the good. — Morality being, as we have 
said, the science of the good, the first question that presents 
itself is : What is good ? 

If we are to believe the first impulses of nature, which in- 
stinctively urge us towards the agreeable and cause us to repel 
all that is painful, the answer to the preceding question 
would not be difficult; we should have but to reply: " Good 
is what makes us happy; good \s> jjleasure.^'' 

One can, without doubt, affirm that morality teaches us to 
be happy, and puts us on the way to true happiness. But it 
is not, as one might believe, in obeying that blind law of 
nature which inclines us towards pleasure, that we shall be 
truly happy. The road morality points out is less easy, but 
surer. 

Some very simple reflections will suffice to show us that 
it cannot be said absolutely that pleasure is the good and 
pain the had. Experience and reasoning easily demonstrate 
the falsity of this opinion. 

1. Pleasure is not always a good, and in certain circum- 
stances it may even become a real evil ; and, vice versa, pain 
is not always an evil, and it may even become a great good. 
Thus we see, on the one hand, that the pleasures of intem- 
perance bring with them sickness, the loss of health and rea- 
son, shortening of life. The pleasures of idleness bring 
poverty, uselessness, the contempt of men. The pleasures of 
vengeance and of crime carry with them chastisement, re 

The fifth collegiate year will be devoted to theoretical morality. 



8 ELEMENTS OF :M0RALS. 

morse, etc. Conversely, again, we see the most painful 
troubles and trials bringing with them evident good. The 
amputation of a limb saves our life ; energetic and painstak- 
ing work brings comfort, etc. In these different cases, if we 
consider their results, it is pleasure that is an evil and pain 
a good. 

2. It must be added that among the pleasures there are 
some that are low, degrading, vulgar ; for example, the 
pleasures of drunkenness ; others, again, that are noble and 
generous, as the heroism of the soldier. Among the pleasures 
of man there are some he has in common with the beasts, 
and others that are peculiar to him alone. Shall we put the 
one kind and the other on the same level 1 Assuredly not. 

3. There are pleasures very keen, which, however, are 
fleeting, and soon pass away, as the pleasures of the passions ; 
others which are durable and continuous, as those of health, 
security, domestic comfort, and the respect of mankind. Shall 
we sacrifice life-long pleasures to pleasures that last but an 
hour ? 

4. Other pleasures are very great, but equally uncertain, 
and dependent on chance ; as, for instance, the pleasures of 
ambition or the pleasures of the gaming-table ; others, again, 
calmer and less intoxicating, but surer, as the pleasures of 
the family circle. 

Pleasures may then be compared in regard to certainty^ 
purity^ durability, intensity, etc. Experience teaches that 
we should not seek pleasures without distinction and choice; 
that we should use our reason and compare them ; that we 
should sacrifice an uncertain and fleeting present to a durable 
future; prefer the simple and peaceful pleasures, free from re- 
grets, to the tumultuous and dangerous pleasures of the pas- 
sions, etc. ; in a word, sacrifice the agrp.eahle to the useful. 

7. Utility and honesty. — One should prefer, we have just 
seen, the useful to the agreeable; but the useful itself should 
not be confounded with the real good — that is, with the 
honest. 



PRELIMINARY NOTIONS. 9 

Let us explain the differences between these two ideas. 

1. There is no honesty or moral goodness without disin- 
terestedness; and he who never seeks anything but his own 
personal interest is branded by all as a selfish man. 

2. Interest gives only advice ; morality gives commands. 
A man is not obliged to be skillful, but he is obliged to be 
honest. 

3. Personal interest cannot be the foundation of any uni- 
versal and general law as applicable to others as to ourselves, for 
the happiness of each depends on his own way of viewing 
things. Every man takes his pleasure where he finds it, and 
understands his interest as he pleases ; but honesty or justice 
is the same for all men. 

4. The honest is clear and self-evident; the useful is uncer- 
tain. Conscience tells every one what is right or wrong; 
but it requires a long trained experience to calculate all the 
possible consequences of our actions, and it would often be 
absolutely impossible for us to foresee them. AVe cannot, 
therefore, always know what is useful to us ; but we can 
always know what is right. 

5. It is never impossible to do right ; but one cannot 
always carry out his own wishes in order to be happy. The 
prisoner may always bravely bear his prison, but he cannot 
always get out of it. 

6. We judge ourselves according to the principles of action 
we recognize. The man who loses in gambling may he troubled 
and regret his imprudence ; but he who is conscious of having 
cheated in gambling (though he won thereby) must despise 
himself if he judges himself from the standpoint of moral 
law. This law must therefore be something else than the 
principle of personal happiness. For, to be able to say to 
one's self, " I am a villain, though I have filled my purse," 
requires another principle than that by which one congratu- 
lates himself, saying, " I am a prudent man, for I have filled 
my cash-box." 

7. The idea of punishment or chastisement could not be 



10 ELEMEIs^TS OF MORALS.' 

understood, moreover, if the good only were the usefuL A 
man is not punished for having been awkward ; he is pun- 
ished for being culpable. 

8. The good op the honest. — We have just seen that neither 
pleasure nor usefulness is the legitimate and supreme object 
of human life. We are certainly permitted to seek pleasure, 
since nature invites us to it ; but we should not make it the 
aim of life. We are also permitted, and even sometimes 
commanded, to seek what is useful, since reason demands we 
see to our self-preservation. But, above pleasure and utility, 
there is another aim, a higher aim, the real object of human 
life. This higher and final aim is what we call, according to 
circumstances, the good, the honest, and ih.^ just. 

'Eow, what is honesty ? 

We distinguish .in man a double nature, body and soid ; 
and in the soul itself two parts, one superior, one inferior ; 
one more particularly deserving of the name of soul, the other 
more carnal, more material, if one may say so, which comes 
nearer the body. In one class we liave intelligence, senti- 
ments, will; in the other, senses, appetites, passions. JSTow, 
that which distinguishes man from the lower animal is the 
power to rise above the senses, appetites, and passions, and to 
be capable of thinking, loving, and willing. 

Thus, moral good consists in preferring what there is best 
in us to what there is least good ; the goods of the soul to the 
goods of the body ; the dignity of human nature to the servi- 
tude of animal passions ; the noble affections of the heart to 
the inclinations of a vile selfishness. 

In one word, moral good consists in man becoming truly 
man — that is to say, " A free will, guided by the heart and 
enlightened by reason." 

Moral good takes different names, according to the relations 
under which we consider it. For instance, when we consider 
it as having for its special object the individual man in rela- 
tion with himself, good becomes what is properly called the 
honest, and has for its prime object personal dignity. In its 



PKELIMIi^AKY NOTIONS. 11 

relation with other men, good takes the name of the just, and 
has for its special object the happiness of others. It consists 
either in not doing to others what we should not wish they 
should do to us, or in doing to others as we should ourselves 
wish to be done by. Finally, in its relation to God, the 
good is called piety or saintliness, and consists in rendering to 
the Father of men and of the universe what is his due. 

9. Duty. — Thus, the honest, the just, and the 2010118 are 
the different names which moral good takes in its relations to 
ourselves, to other men, or to God. 

Moral good, under these different forms, presents itself 
always in the same character, namely, imposing on us the ob- 
ligation to do it as soon as we recognize it, and that, too, 
without regard to consequences and whatever be our inclina- 
tions to the contrary. 

Thus, we should tell the truth even though it injures us; 
we should respect the property of others, though it be neces- 
sary to our existence ; finally, we should even sacrifice, if 
necessary, our life for the family and the country. 

This law, which prescribes to us the doing right for its 
own sake, is what is called moral Icvw or the law of duty. It 
is a sort of constraint, but a moral constraint, and is distin- 
guished from physical constraint by the fact that the latter is 
dictated by fate and is irresistible, whilst the constraint of 
duty imposes itself upon our reason without violating our 
liberty. This kind of necessity, Avhich commands reason 
alone without constraining the will, is moral obligation. 

To say that the right is obligatory is to say, then, that we 
consider ourselves held to do it, without being forced to do it. 
On the contrary, if we were to do it by force it Avould cease 
to be the right. It must therefore be done freely, and duty 
may thus be defined an obligation consented to. 

Duty presents itself in a two-fold character : it is absolute 
and universal. 

1. It is absolute : that is to say, it imposes its commands 
unconditionally, without taking account of our desires, our 



12 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

passions, our interests. It is by this that the commands of 
duty may be distinguished, as we have already said, from the 
counsels of an interested prudence. The rules or calculations 
of prudence are nothing but means to reach a certain end, 
which is the useful. The law of duty, on the contrary, is in 
itself its own aim. Here the law should be obeyed for its own 
sake, and not for any other reason. Prudence says : " The 
end justifies the means." Duty says : "Do as thou shouldst 
do, let come what will." 

2. From this first character a second is deduced : duty being 
absolute, is universal ; that is to say, it can be applied to all 
men in the same manner and under the same circumstances ; 
whence it follows that each must acknowledge that this law 
is imposed not only on himself, but on all other men also. 

To which correspond those two beautiful maxims of the 
Gospel : "Do to others as thou wishest to be done by. Do 
not do to others what thou dost not wish they should do to 
thee." 

The law of duty is not only obligatory in itself, it is so 
also because it is derived from God, who in his justice and 
goodness wishes we should submit to it. God being himself 
the absolutely perfect being, and having created us in his 
image, wishes, for this very reason, that we should make every 
effort to imitate him as much as possible, and has thus imposed 
on us the obligation of being virtuous. It is God we obey 
in o1)eying the law of honesty and duty. 

10. Moral conscience. — A law cannot be imposed on a 
free agent without its being known to him ; without its being 
present to his mind — that is to say, without his accepting it 
as true, and recognizing the necessity of its application in 
every particular case. This faculty of recognizing the moral 
law, and applying it in all the circumstances that may present 
tliemselves, is what is called conscience. 

Conscience is then that act of the mind by which we apply 
to a particular case, to an action to he performed or already 
l^erf&rmed^ the general rules prescribed by moral law. It is 



PRELIMIKARY ifOTIOJfS. 13 

both the power that commands and the inward judge that 
condemns or absolves. On the one hand it dictates what 
should be done or avoided ; on the other it judges what has 
been done. Hence it is the condition of the performance of 
all our duties. 

Conscience being the practical judgment which in each 
particular case decides the right and the wrong, one can ask 
of man only one thing : namely, to act according to his con- 
science. At the moment of action there is no other rule. But 
one must take great care lest by subtle doubts, he obscures 
either within himself or in others the clear and distinct de- 
cisions of conscience. 

In fact, men often, to divert themselves from the right 
when they wish to do certain bad actions, fight their own 
conscience with sophisms. "Under the influence of these soph- 
isms, conscience becomes erroneous ; that is to say, it ends by 
taking good for evil and evil for good, and this is even one 
of the punishments of those who follow the path of vice : 
they become at last incapable of discerning between right and 
wrong. When it is said of a man that he has no conscience, 
it is not meant that he is really deprived of it (else he were 
not a man) ; but that he has fallen into the habit of not con- 
sulting it or of holding its decisions in contempt. 

By ignorant conscience we mean that conscience which does 
wrong because it has not yet learned to know what is right. 
Thus, a child tormenting animals does not always do so out of 
bad motives : he does not know or does not think that he 
hurts them. In fact, it is with good as it is with evil ; the 
child is already good or bad before it is able to discern be- 
tween the one or the other. This is what is called the state 
of innocence, which in some respects is conscience asleep. But 
this state cannot last ; the child's conscience, and in general 
the conscience of all men, must be enlightened. This is the 
progress of human reason which every day teaches us better 
to know the difi'erence between good and evil. 

It sometimes happens that one is in some respects in doubt 



14 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

between two indications of conscience; not, of course, between 
duty and passion, which is the highest moral combat, but be- 
tween two or more duties. This is what is called a doubting 
or loeiylexed conscience. In such a case the simplest rule to 
follow, when it is practicable, is the one expressed by that 
celebrated maxim : When in doubt, abstain. In cases where 
it is impossible to absolutely abstain, and where it becomes 
necessary not only to act but to choose, the rule should always 
be to choose that part which favors least our interests, for we 
may always suppose that that which causes our conscience to 
doubt, is an interested, unobserved motive. If there is no 
private interest in the matter either on the one side or the 
other, there remains nothing better to do than to decide 
according to circumstances. But it is very rare that con- 
science ever finds itself in such an absolute state of doubt, and 
there are almost always more reasons on the one side than on 
the other. The simplest and most general rule in such a case 
is to chose what seems most probable. 

II. Moral Sentiment. — At the same time, as the mind 
distinguishes between good and evil by a judgment called 
conscience, the heart experiences emotions or divers affections, 
which are embraced under the common term moral sentiment. 
These are the pleasures or pains which arise in our soul at the 
sight of good or evil, either in ourselves or in others. 

In respect to our own actions this sentiment is modified 
according as the action is to be performed, or is already per- 
formed. In the first instance we experience, on the one hand, 
a certain attraction for the right (that is when passion is not 
strong enough to stifle it), and on the other, a repugnance or 
aversion for the wrong (more or less attenuated, according to 
circumstances, by habit or the violence of the design). Usage 
has not given any particular names to tliese two sentiments. 

When, on the contrary, the action is performed, the i)leasure 
which results from it, if we have acted rightly, is called moral 
satisfaction; and if we have acted wrong, remorse, or re- 
pentance. 



I»IlELtMlKARY NOTIOKS. 15 

Remorse is a burning pain ; and, as the word indicates, tlie 
hite that tortures the heart after a culpable action. This 
pain may be found among the very ones who have no regret 
for having done wrong, and who would do it over again if 
they could. It has therefore no moral character whatsoever, 
and must be considered as a sort of punishment attached to 
crime by nature herself. "Malice," said Montaigne, " poisons 
itself with its own venom. Aace leaves, like an ulcer in the 
flesh, a repentance in the soul, which, ever scratching itself, 
draws ever fresh blood." 

Repentance is also, like remorse, a pain which comes from a 
bad action; but there is coupled with it the regret of having done 
it, and the wish, if not the firm resolution, never to do it again. 

Repentance is a sadness of the soul ; remorse is a torture 
and an anguish. Repentance is almost a virtue ; remorse is 
a punishment ; but the one lead^ to the other, and he who 
feels no remorse can feel no repentance. 

Moral satisfaction, on the contrary, is a peace, a joy, a keen 
and delicious emotion born from the feeling of having accom- 
plished one's duty. It is the only remuneration that never 
fails us. 

Among the sentiments called forth by our own actions, 
there are two which are the natural auxiliaries of the moral 
sentiment : they are the sentiment of lionor and the sentiment 
of shame. 

Honor is a principle wliich incites us to perform actions 
which raise us in our own eyes, and to avoid such as Avoidd 
lower us. 

Shame is the opposite of honor ; it is what we feel when 
we have done something that lowers us not only in the 
eyes of others, but in our own. All remorse is more or less 
accompanied by shame ; yet the shame is greater for actions 
which indicate a certain baseness of soul. For instance, one 
will feel more ashamed of having told a falsehood than for 
having struck a person ; for having cheated in gambling than 
for havinir fouuht a duel. 



16 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

Honor and shame are therefore not always an exact measure 
of the moral value of actions ; for be they but brilliant, man 
will soon rid himself of all shame ; this happens, for instance, 
in cases of prodigality, licentiousness, ambition. One does 
wron£c, not without remorse, but with a certain ostentation 
which stifles the feelings of shame. 

Let us pass now to the sentiments which the actions of 
others excite in us. 

Sympathy, antipathy, kindness, esteem, contempt, respect, 
enthusiasm, indignation, these are the various terms by which 
we express the diverse sentiments of the soul touching virtue 
and vice. 

Sympathy is a disposition to share the same impressions 
with other men ; to sympathize with their joy is to share 
that joy ; to sympathize with their grief is to share that grief. 
It may happen that one sympathizes with the defects of others 
when they are the same as our own ; but, as a general thing, 
people sympathize above all with the good qualities, and 
experience only antipathy for the bad. At the theatre, all 
the spectators, good and bad, wish to see virtue rewarded and 
crime punished. 

The contrary of sympathy is antipathy. 

Kindness is the disposition to wish others well. Esteem is a 
sort of kindness mingled with judgment and reflection, which 
we feel for those who have acted well, especially in cases of or- 
dinary virtues ; for before the higher and more difficult virtues, 
esteem becomes respect ; if it be heroism, respect turns into 
admiration and enthusiasm ; admiration being the feeling of 
surprise which great actions excite in us, and enthusiasm that 
same feeling pushed to an extreme ; carrying us away from our- 
selves, as if a god were in us.* Gontem2)t is the fecHng of 
aversion we entertain towards him who does wrong ; it im- 
))lies particularly a case of base and shameful actions. 
When these actions are only condemnable without being 

♦ Tlie word eiitlmsiasin coiiuis from a Greek word siynifyiiig, to be filled with 
u god. 



^ 



PRELIMII^ARY KOTIOKS. 17 

odious, the sentiment is one of hlame, which, Hke esteem, is 
nearer being a judgment than a sentiment. When, finally, it 
is a case of criminal and revolting actions, the feeling is one 
of horror or execration. 

12. Liberty. — We have already said that man or the 
moral agent is/ree, when he is in a condition to choose be- 
tween right and wrong, and able to do either at his will. 

Liberty always supposes one to be in possession of himself. 
Man is free when he is awake, in a state of reason, and an 
adult. He is not free, or very little so, when he is asleep, 
or delirious, or in his first childhood. 

Liberty is certified to man. 

L By the inward sentiment which accompanies each of his 
acts ; for instance, at the moment of acting, I feel that I can 
will or not will to do such or such an action ; if I enter on 
it, I feel that I can discontinue it as long as it is not fully 
executed ; when it is completed, I am convinced that I might 
have acted otherwise. 

2. By the very fact of moral law or dtdy; I ought, therefore 
I can. No one is held to do the impossible. If, then, there is 
in me a law that commands me to do good and avoid evil, it 
is because I can do either as I wish. 

3. By the moral satisfaction which accompanies a good 
action ; by the remorse or repentance wliich follows a bad one. 
One does not rejoice over a thing done against his will, and 
no one reproaches himself for an act committed under com- 
pulsion. The first word of all those reproached for a bad 
action is, that it was not done on purpose, intentionally. They 
acknowledge thereby that we can only be reproached for an 
action done wilfully ; namely, freely. 

4. By the rewards and punisliments, and in general by the 
moral responsihilit^j which is attached to all our actions when 
they have been committed knowingly. We do not punish 
actions which are the result of constraint or ignorance. 

5. By the exhortations or counsels we give to others. We 
do not exhort a man to be warm or cold, not to suffer hunger 



18 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

or thirst, because it is well known that this is not a thing de- 
pendent on his will. But we exhort him to be honest, be- 
cause we believe that he can be so if he wishes. 

6. By promises : no one promises not to die, not to be sick, 
etc., but one promises to be present at a certain meeting, to 
pay a certain sum of money, on such a day, to such a man, 
because one feels he can do so unless circumstances over 
which he has no control prevent. 

Prejudices against Liberty. — Although men, as we have seen, 
may have the sense of liberty very strong, and may show it by 
their acts, by their approbation or blame, etc., yet, on the other 
hand, they often yield to the force of certain prejudices 
which seem to contradict the universal belief we have just 
spoken of. 

1. Character. — The principal one of these prejudices is the 
often expressed opinion that every man is impelled by his own 
character to perform the actions which accord with this char- 
acter, and that there is no help against this irresistible neces- 
sity of nature ; this is often expressed by the common axiom : 
" One cannot make himself over again." The same has also 
been expressed by the poet Destouches in that celebrated line : 

Chassez le naturel, il revient au galop.* 

Nothing is less exact as a fact and more dangerous as a 
principle, than this pretended immutability of human char- 
acter, which, if true, would render evil irremediable and incor- 
rigible. 

Experience teaches the contrary. No man is wholly de- 
prived of good and bad inclinations ; he may develop the one 
or the other, as he chooses between theili. 

2. Habits. — Habits in the long run become, it is true, 
irresistible. It is a fact which has been often observed ; but 
if, on the one hand, an inveterate habit is irresistible, it is not 
so in the beginning, and man is thus free to prevent the en- 

* Drive away nature, and it gallops back apain. Lafontaine has said tlie same 
thing : " Shut the door against its nose, and it will return by the window." 



^RELIMIXAEY NOTIONS. 19 

croachments of liad habits. It is for this reason that moralists 
warn us above all against the beginnings of habits. " Beware 
especially of beginnings," says the Imitation. 

3. Passions. — Passions have especially enjoyed the privilege 
of passing for uncontrollable and irresistible. All great sin- 
ners find their excuse in the fatal allurements of passions. 
" The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak," says the Gos- 
pel. The remarks we have just made touching the habits, 
may be equally applied to the passions. It is rare that pas- 
sions manifest themselves all of a sudden, and with that ex- 
cess of violence which, breaking upon one imexpectedly and 
like a delirium, assume, indeed, all the appearances of a 
fatality. But, as a general thing, passions grow little by little. 
" Some smaller crimes always precede the greater crimes." It 
is especially when the first attacks of a passion begin to show 
themselves that it should be energetically fought down. 

4. Education and circumstances. — Tlic education one has 
received, the circumstances one finds liimself in, may put a 
limit to his liberty ; and man is not wholly responsible for the 
impulses which he may owe to example and the bad principles 
in which he may have been brought up. These may, perhaps, 
be called attenuating circumstances ; but they do not go so far 
as wholly to suppress liberty and responsibility. In the ap- 
preciation of other people's acts, we may allow the attenuating 
circumstances as large a margin as possible, but in the case of 
self-government, one should make it as strict and narrow as 
possible. 1^0 one having, in fact, a measure by ^vliich he may 
determine his moral strength in an absolute manner, it is 
better to aim too high than too low. One should be guided 
by the principle that nothing is impossible to him who has a 
strong will ; for " we can do a thing when we think we can." 
In conclusion, liberty means nothing else but moral strength. 
Experience certifies that man can become the master of the 
physical nature which he can subject to his designs ; he can 
gain the mastery over liis own body, his passions, his habits, 
his own disposition; in a word, he can be "master of him- 



20 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

self." In thus ascending, step by step, from exterior nature 
to the body, from the body to the passions, from the passions 
to the habits and the character, we arrive at the first motor 
of action which moves everything without being moved : 
namely, liberty. 

13. Merit and demerit. — We call in general merit the 
quality by virtue of which a moral agent renders himself 
worthy of a reward ; and demerit that by which he renders 
himself, so to say, worthy of punishment. 

The merit of an action may be determined : 1, by the diffi- 
culty of the action ; 2, by the importance of the duty. 

1. Wliy, for instance, is there in general very little merit 
in respecting other people's property and abstaining from 
theft ? Because education in this respect has so fashioned us, 
that few men have any temptation to the contrary; and, even 
were there such a temptation, we should be ashamed to pub- 
licly claim any merit for having resisted it. 

Why, on the other hand, is there great merit in sacrificing 
one's life to the happiness of others? Because we are strongly 
attached to life, and comparatively very little attached to men 
in general ; to sacrifice what we love most, to what we love 
but little, from a sense of duty, is evidently very difficult ; for 
this reason, we find in this action a very great merit. 

Suppose a man, who had enjoyed in all security of con- 
science and during a long life, a large fortune which he be- 
lieves his, and of which he has made the noblest use, should 
learn all at once, and at the brink of old age, that this fortune 
belongs to another. Suppose, to render the action still more 
difficult to perform, that he alone knows the fact, and could 
consequently in all security keep the fortune if he wishes ; 
aggravate the situation still more by supposing that this for- 
tune belongs to heirs in great poverty, and that in renouncing 
it the possessor would hiuiself be reduced to utter misery. 
Imagine, finally, all the circumstances which may render a 
duty both the strictest and most difficult, and you will have 
an action the merit of which will be very great. 



PRELIMIJ?-ARY ISTOTIONS. 31 

2. It is not only the difficulty of an action that constitutes 
its merit, but also the importance of the duty. Thus the 
merit of a difficulty surmounted, has no more value in 
morality than it has in poetry, when it stands alone. One 
may of course impose upon himself a sort of moral gymnastics, 
and consequently very difficult tasks, though very useless in 
the end; but these will be considered only in the light of dis- 
cipline and exercise, and not in that of duty ; and this dis- 
cipline would have to be more or less connected with the life 
one may be called to lead. For instance, suppose a mission- 
ary, called to brave during all his life all kinds of climates 
and dangers, should exercise himself beforehand in under- 
takings brave and bold, such undertakings would be both 
reasonable and meritorious. But he who out of bravado, 
ostentation, and without any worthy aim, should undertake the 
climbing to inaccessible mountain-tops, the swimming across 
an arm of the sea, the fighting openly ferocious animals, etc., 
he would accomplish actions which, it is true, would not be 
without merit, since they are brave ; but their merit would not 
be equivalent to that we should attribute to other actions less 
difficult, but more wise. 

As to demerit, it is in proportion to the gravity of duties, 
and the facility of accomplishing them. The more important 
a matter, and the easier to fulfil, the more is one culpable 
in faihng to fulfil it. 

According to these principles, one may determine as follows 
the estimation of moral actions : 

Human actions, we have said, are divided into two classes : 
the good and the bad. It is a question among the moralists 
to determine whether there are any that are to be called in- 
dijferent. 

Among the good actions, some are heautiful, heroic^ stiblwie / 
others, proper, right, and honest ; among the bad, some are 
simply censurable, others shameful, criminal, hideous ; finally, 
among the indifferent ones, some are agreeable and allowable, 
others necessary and unavoidable. 



22 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. 

Let us give some examples by which the rlifFerent characters 
of human actions may be well understood. 

A judge who administers justice without partiality, a mer- 
chant who sells his merchandise for no more tha^ it is worth, 
a debtor who regularly pays his creditor, a soldier punctual 
at drill, obedient to discipline, and faithful at his post in 
times of peace or war, a schoolboy doing regularly the task 
assigned to him, all these persons perform actions good and 
laudable, but they cannot be called extraordinary. They are 
approved of, but not admired. To manage one's fortune 
economically, not to yield too much to the pleasure of the 
senses, to tell no lies, to neither strike nor wound others, are 
so many good, right, proper, and estimable actions ; but they 
cannot be called admirable actions. 

Actions are beautiful in proportion to the difficulty of their 
performance ; when they are extremely difficult and perilous, 
then we call them heroic and sublime ; that is, provided they 
are good actions, for heroism is unfortunately sometimes allied 
with wrong. He who, like President de Harlay, can say to 
a very powerful usurper : " It is a sad thing when the servant is 
allowed to dismiss the master ;" he who can say, like Viscount 
d'Orthez, who made opposition to Charles IX. after St. 
Bartholomew, saying : " My soldiers are no executioners ;" he 
who, like Boissy d'Anglas, can firmly and resolutely uphold the 
rights of an assembly in the face of a sanguinary, violent, and 
rebellious populace ; he who, like Morus or Dubourg, would 
rather die tlian sacrifice his trust ; he who, like Colum])us, 
can venture upon an unknown ocean, and brave the revolt of 
a rude and superstitious crew, to obey a generous conviction ; 
he who, like Alexander, confides in friendship enough to re- 
ceive from the hands of liis physician a drink reputed poisoned; 
any man, in short, who devotes himself for his fellow beings, 
who, in fire, in water, in the depths of the eartli, braves 
death to save life ; Avho, in order to spread the truth, to re- 
main true iiiid lioiH'st, to Avork in the interests of religion, 



PEELIMINAKY NOTIONS. 23 

science, or humanity, will suffer hunger and thirst, poverty, 
slavery, torture, or death, is a hero. 

Epictetus was a slave. His master, for some negligence or 
other, caused him to be beaten. " You will break my leg," 
said the sufferer ; and the leg broke, indeed, under the blows. 
" I told you you would break it," he remarked quietly. This 
is a hero. 

Joan of Arc, defeated by the English and made a prisoner, 
threatened with the stake, said to her executioners : " I knew 
quite well that the English would put me to death ; but were 
there a hundred thousand of them, they should not have this 
kingdom." This is a heroine. 

Bad actions have their degrees likewise. But here we 
should call attention to the fact that the worst are those that 
stand in opposition to the simply good actions ; on the con- 
trary, an action which is not heroic is not necessarily bad ; 
and when it is bad it is not to be classed among the most 
criminal. Some examples will again be necessary to under- 
stand these various shades of meaning, which every one feels 
and recognizes in practice, but which are very difficult to 
analyze theoretically. 

To be respectful towards one's parents is a good and proper 
action, but not a heroic one. On the contrary, to strike them, 
insult them, kill them, are abominable actions, and to be 
classed among the basest and most hideous that can be com- 
mitted. To love one's friends, to be as serviceable to them 
as possible, shows a straightforward and well-endowed soul ; 
but there is nothing sublime in it. On the other hand, to 
betray friendship ; to slander those that love us ; to lie 
in order to win their favor ; to inquire into their secrets 
for the purpose of using them against them, are black, 
base, and shameful actions. There is scarcely any merit in 
not taking what does not belong to us ; theft, on the con- 
trary, is the most contemptible of things. Now, not to be 
able to bear with adversity, to fear death, to shrink from 
braving the ice of the N'ovth Pole, to stay at home when fire 



24 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

or flood threatens our neighbor, may be mean or weak, but not 
criminal. Let us add, however, that there are cases where 
heroism becomes obligatory, and where it is criminal not to be 
heroic. A sea-captain, who has endangered his ship, and 
who, instead of saving it, leaves his post ; a general who, 
when the moment calls for it, refuses to die at the head of 
his army, lack courage ; the chief of a State who, in times of 
revolt, or when the country is in peril, fears death ; the pre- 
sident of a convention who takes to flight before a rebellion ; 
the physician who runs away before an epidemic ; the magis- 
trate who is afraid to be just ; all these are truly culpable. 
Every condition of life has its peculiar heroism, which at cer- 
tain moments becomes a duty. Yet will it always be true 
that the more easy an action is, the less excusable is its neglect, 
and consequently the more odious is it to try to escape from it. 
Besides the good or bad actions, there are others which ap- 
pear to. partake of neither the one nor the other of these two 
characters, which are neither good nor bad, and which for 
this reason are called indifl'erent. For instance, to go and 
take a walk is an action which, considered by itself, is neither 
good nor bad, although it may become the one or the other 
according to circumstances. To be asleep, to be awake, to 
eat, to take exercise, to talk with one's friends, to read an 
agreeable book, to play on some instrument, are actions which 
certainly have nothing bad in themselves, but which, never- 
theless, could not be cited as examples of good actions. One 
would not say, for instance, such a one is an honest man be- 
cause he plays the violin well ; such a one is a scholar because 
lie has a good appetite ; still less Avhen actions absolutely 
nec(}ssary come into (piestion, as the act of breathing and 
sleeping. Actions, then, which are inseparable from the 
necessities of our existence, have no moral character ; they are 
the same with us as with the aninials and plants ; they are 
purely natural actions. Tlierc are others, again, that are not 
necessary, })ut simply agreeabh;, which we perform because 
tliey suit our tastes and fancies. 



PKELIMIKAEY KOTIOi^S. 25 

It is sufficient that they are not contrary to the right, that 
one cannot call them bad ; but it does not follow from this 
that they are good, and such are what are called indifferent 
actions. 

Such, at least, is the appearance of things ; for, in a more 
elevated sense, the moralists were right in saying that there 
is no action absolutely indifferent, and that all actions are in 
some respect good or bad, according to motive. 

14. Moral responsibility. — ^Man being free, is for this reason 
responslUe for his actions : they can be imputed to him. These 
two expressions have about the same meaning, only the term 
responsibility applies to the agent, and imputability to the 
actions. 

The two fundamental conditions of moral responsibility 
are: 1, the knowledge of good and evil; 2, the liberty of 
action. In proportion as these two conditions vary, the re- 
sponsibility will vary. 

It foUows from this, that idiocy, insanity, delirium in cases 
of illness — destroying nearly always both conditions of re- 
sponsibility — namely, discernment and free agency, deprive 
thereby of all moral character the actions committed in these 
different states. They are not of a nature to be imputed to 
a moral agent. Yet are there certain lunatics not wholly in- 
sane who ma}^ preserve in their lucid state a certain portion of 
responsibility. 

2. Drunkenness. May that be considered a cause of irre- 
sponsibility 1 j^o, certainly not ; for, on the one hand, one is 
responsible for the very act of drunkenness ; and, on the other, 
one knows that in putting himself in such a condition he ex- 
poses himself to all its consequences, and accepts them im- 
plicitly. For example, he who puts himself in a state of 
drunkenness, consents beforehand to all the low, vulgar 
actions inseparable from that state. As to the violent and 
dangerous actions which may accidentally result from it, as 
blows and murders springing from quarrels, one cannot, of 
course, impute them to the drunken man with the same sever- 



26 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

ity as to the sober man, for lie certainly did not explicitly 
chose them when he put himself into a state of drunkenness ; 
but neither is he wholly innocent of them, for he knew that 
they were some of the possible consequences of that condition. 
As to him who puts himself voluntarily into a state of 
drunkenness, with the express intention of committing a 
crime and giving himself courage for the act, it is evident 
that, so far from diminishing thereby his share of responsi- 
bility in the action, he, on the contrary, increases it, since he 
makes violent efforts to keep off all the scruples or hesitations 
which might keep him from committing it. 

3. " Xo one is held to do impossible things." According 
to this theory, it is evident that one is not responsible for an 
action he has been absolutely unable to accomplish ; thus we 
cannot blame a paralytic, or a child, or an invalid, for not 
taking up arms in defence of his country. Yet we must not 
liave voluntarily created the impossibility of acting, as it often 
happened in Rome, where some, in order not to go to war, cut 
off their thumbs. The same with a debtor who, by circum- 
stances independent of liis will (fire, shipwreck, epidemics), is 
unable to acquit himself : he is excusable ; but if he placed 
himself in circumstances which he knew would disable him, 
his inability is no longer an excuse. 

4, Natural qualities or defects of mind and body cannot be 
imputed to any one, either for good or for bad. Who would 
reproach a man for being born blind, or because he became so 
in consequence of sickness or a blow 1 The same with the 
defects of the mind : no one is responsible for having no 
memory, or for not being briglit. Yet as these defects may be 
corrected by exercise, we are more or less responsible for mak- 
ing no efforts to remedy them. As to the defects or deformities 
which result from our own fault, as, for example, the conse- 
quences of our passions, it is evident that they can justly be 
imputed to us. Natural qualities cannot be credited to any 
one. Tims we should not honor people for their physical 
strength, health, beauty, or even wit ; and no one should boast 



PEELIMIKARY NOTIONS. 27 

of such advantages, or pride himself on them. However, he 
who by a wise and laborious life has succeeded in preserving 
or developing his physical strength, or who, by the effort of 
his will, has cultivated and perfected his mind, deserves 
praise ; and it is thus that physical and moral advantages 
may become indirectly legitimate matter for moral appro- 
bation. 

5. The effects of extraneous causes and events, whatever 
they may be, whether good or bad, can only be imputed to 
a man, as he could or should have produced, prevented, or 
directed them, and has been careful or negligent in doing so. 
Thus a farmer, according as he works the land entrusted to 
him well or badly, is made responsible for a good or bad 
harvest. 

6. A final question is that of the responsibility of a man for 
other people's actions. Theoretically, no man certainly is 
responsible for any but his own actions. But human actions 
are so interlinked with each other that it is very rare that we 
have not some share, direct or indirect, in the conduct of 
others. For instance, one is responsible in a certain measure 
for the conduct of those under him ; a father for his children, 
a master for his servants, and, up to a certain point, an em- 
ployer for his workmen ; 2, one is responsible in a measure 
for actions which he might have prevented, when, either 
through negligence or laziness, he did not do so ; if you see a 
man about to kill himself, and make no effort to prevent it, 
you are not innocent of his death, unless, of course, you did 
not suspect what he was going to do ; 3, you are responsible 
for other people's actions when, either by your instigations, or 
even by a simple approbation, you have co-operated towards 
them. 

15. Moral sanction. — We call the sanction of a law the 
body of recompenses and punishments attached to the execu- 
tion or violation of the law. Civil laws, in general, make 
more use of punishments than rewards ; for punishments may 
appear means sufficient to have the law executed. In educa- 



28 ELEMEiTTS OF MORALS. 

tion, on the contrary, the commands or laws laid down by a 
superior, have as much need of rewards as punishments. 

But what is to be understood by the terms recompense and 
punishment ? The recompense of a good and virtuous action 
is the pleasure we derive from it, and for the very reason that 
it is good and virtuous. 

There are to be distinguished, however, two other kinds of 
rewards, which, though they resemble recompense, are never- 
theless very different from it namely, favor and remunera- 
tion. 

Favor is a pleasure or an advantage bestowed on us, without 
our having deserved or earned it ; a pure expression of the 
good-will of others towards us. It is thus that a king grants 
favors to his courtiers, that those in power distribute favors. 
It is thus we speak of the favors of fortune. Although 
theoretically there is no reason why we should understand the 
word favor in a bad sense, yet has it by usage come to signify 
not only an advantage undeserved, but unworthy ; not only a 
legitimate preference which has its reason in sympathy, but 
an arbitrary choice more or less contrary to justice. How- 
ever, although no such ugly signification need be attached to 
it, a favor, as a gratuitous gift, must always be distinguished 
from reward, which, on the contrary, implies a remuneration; 
that is to say, a gift in return for something. 

Yet not all remuneration is necessarily a reward ; and here 
we must establish another distinction between reward and re- 
muneration. By remuneration we mean the price we pay for a 
service rendered us, no matter what motive may determine a per- 
son to render us this service ; it is for its utility we pay, and 
for nothing else. The reward, on the contrary, implies the idea 
of a certain effort to do good. He who renders us a service 
from affection and devotion, would refuse being paid for it, 
and, vice versa, he who sells us his work does not ask us for 
a recompense, but for an equivalent of what he would have 
earned for himself if he had a])plied his work to his own 
wants. 



I 



PRELIMIKART NOTIONS. 29 

On the contrary, we call every pain or suffering inflicted on 
an agent for committing a bad action, for no other reason than 
that it is bad, chastisement or punishment. 

Punishment stands against damage or lorong ; that is to say, 
against undeserved harm. The Uowsoi fortune or of men are 
not always punishments. One may be striLck without being 
punished. 

Although we say in a general way that the ills that befall 
men are often the chastisements of their faults, yet this should 
not be taken too strictly, otherwise we should too easily 
transform the merely unfortunate into criminals. 

Although recompenses and punishments may be only 
secondary means by which men may be led to do good and 
avoid evil, this should not be their essential office nor their 
real idea. 

It is not that the law should he fulfilled that there are re- 
wards and punishments in morality ; it is because it has been 
fulfilled or violated. Such is the true principle of reward. 
It comes from justice, not utility. 

For the same reason, chastisement, in its true sense, should 
not only be a menace insuring the execution of the law, but a 
reparation or expiation for its violation. The order of things 
disturbed by a rebellious Avill is again re-established by the 
suffering which is the consequence of the fault committed. 
In one sense it may be said that punishment is the remedy for 
the fault. In fact, injustice and vice being, as it were, the 
diseases of the soul, it is certain that suffering is their remedy ; 
but only on condition that this suffering be accepted by way 
of chastisement. It is thus that grief has a purifying virtue, 
and that instead of being considered an evil, it may be called 
a good. 

Another confusion of ideas which should be equally avoided, 
and which is very common among men, is that which consists 
in taking the reward itself for a good, and the punisliment for 
an evil. 

It is thus that men are often more proud of the titles and 



30 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

honors they have obtained, tha'n of the real merit through 
which they have won them. It is thus also that they fear 
the prison more than the crime, and shame more than vice. 

It is for this reason that the greatest courage is needed to 
bear undeserved punishment. 

"We distinguish generally four species of sanction : 
1. Natural sanction ; 2, legal sanction ; 3, the sanction of 
public opinion ; 4, inward sanction. 

1. Natural sanction is that which rests on the natural con- 
sequences of our actions. It is natural for sobriety to keep 
up and establish health, for intemperance to be a cause of 
disease. It is natural for work to bring with it ease of cir- 
cumstances, for idleness to be a source of misery and poverty. 
It is natural that probity should insure security, confidence, 
and credit ; that courage should put off the chances of death ; 
that patience should render life more bearable ; that good-will 
should call forth good-will ; that wickedness should drive men 
from us ; that perjury should cause them to distrust us, etc. 
These facts have ever been verified by experience. The 
honest is not always the useful ; but it is often what is most 
useful. 

2. Legal sanction is above all a penal sanction. It is com- 
posed of the chastisements which the law has established for 
the guilty. There are, in general, few rewards established by 
the law, and they may be classed among what is called the 
esteem of men. 

3. Another kind of sanction consists in the opinion other 
men entertain in regard to our actions and character. We 
have seen that it is in the nature of good actions to inspire 
esteem, in the nature of the bad to inspire blame and contempt. 
The honest man generally enjoys public honor and considera- 
tion. The dishonest man, even though tlie law does not 
reach him, is branded with discredit, aversion, contempt, etc. 

4. Finally, a more exact and certain sanction is that which 
results from the very conscience and moral sentiment men- 
tioned above. 



PEELIMINARY NOTIOKS. 31 

16. The superior sanction : the future life. — These 
various sanctions being insufficient to satisfy our want of 
justice, there is required still another, namely, the superioi- 
religious sanction. 

It is a well-known fact that virtue is not a sufficient shield 
to protect us against the blows of adversity, and that im- 
morality does not necessarily condemn one to misery and grief. 
It is evident that a man corrupt and wicked may be born with 
all the advantages of genius, fortune, health ; and that an 
honest man may have inherited none of these. 

There is in this neither injustice nor blind chance ; but it 
proves that the harmony between moral good and happiness 
is not of this world. 

In regard to the pleasures and pains of conscience, it is 
also evident that they are not sufficient. In fact, the pleasures 
of the senses may divert and deaden the pangs of remorse ; 
and it must also be said, though it be still more sad, that it 
sometimes happens that a merciless continuance of misfortune 
deadens in an honest soul the delight in virtue ; and the pain- 
ful efforts which virtue costs may finally obliterate in a man, 
tired of life, the calm and sweet enjoyment which it naturally 
brings with it. 

If such is the dispro]3ortion and disagreement between the 
inner pleasures and pains, and the moral merit of him who 
experiences them, what shall we say of that wholly outward 
sanction which consists in the rewards and punishments dis- 
tributed by the unequal justice of man ? I do not speak of 
legal pains alone ; it is well known that they often fall upon 
the innocent, and are spared to the guilty ; that they are 
almost always disproportioned : the law punishing the crime, 
without taking note of the exact moral value of the action ; 
but I speak also of the pains and rewards of public opinion, 
esteem, and contempt. Are these always in an exact propor- 
tion to merit 1 

From all these observations it results that the law of har- 
mony between good and happiness is not of this workl ; that 



32 



ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 



there is always disagreement, or at least disproportion, between 
moral merit and the pleasures of the senses. Hence the neces- 
sity of a superior sanction, the means and time of which are 
in the hand of God. 

"The more I go within myself," says a philosopher,* "the 
more I consult myself, the more I read these words written 
in my soul : he just and thou shalt be haiopy. And yet it is 
not so, looking at the actual state of things : the wicked 
prosper, and the just are oppressed. See, also, what indigna- 
tion arises in us when this expectation is frustrated ! The 
conscience murmurs and rebels against its author ; it cries to 
him, groaning : Thou hast deceived me ! I have deceived 
thee, oh thou rash one 1 Who has told thee so 1 Is thy soul 
annihilated'? Hast thou ceased to exist? Oh, Brutus ! oh, my 
son, do not stain thy noble life by putting an end to it ; do 
not leave thy hopes and glory with thy body on the fields of 
Philippi. Why sayest thou : Virtue is nothing when tliou 
art now about entering into the enjoyment of thin« 1 Thou 
shalt die, thinkest thou ; no, thou shalt live, and it is then I 
shall keep what I have promised ! One would say, hearing 
the murmurings of impatient mortals, that God owes them a 
reward before they have shown any merit, and that he is 
obliged to pay their virtue in advance. Oh ! let us first be 
good ; we shall be happy afterwards. Do not let us claim the 
prize before the victory, nor the salary before the work. ' It 
is not in the lists,' says Plutarch, ' that the victors in our 
sacred games are crowned; it is after they have run the 
course.' " 



J. J. Rousseau, Emile. 



I 



CHAPTEE II. 

DIVISION OF DUTIES — GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL 
MORALITY. 



SUMMARY. 

Division of duties. — In theory there is but one duty, which is to do 
right ; but this duty is subdivided according to the various relations 
of man. Hence three classes of duties : duties towards ourselves, 
towards others, towards God : individual, social, religious morality. 
We will begin Avith social morality, which requires the most ex- 
pounding. 

General principles of social duties : to do good ; not to do evil. 

DifTerent degrees of this double obligation : 1, not to return evil 
for good (ingratitude) ; 2, not to do evil to those who have not done 
us any (injustice and cruelty) ; 3, not to return evil for evil (revenge) ; 
4, to return good for good (gratitude) ; 5, to do good to those who 
have not done us any (charity) ; 6, to return good for evil (clemency, 
generosity ). 

Distinction between the various kinds of social duties : 1, to- 
wards the lives of other men ; 2, towards their j^roperty ; 3, towards 
t\veiv family ; 4, towards their honor ; 5, towards their liberty. 

Distinction between the duties of justice and the duties of charity. 
—Justice is absolute, AAdthout restriction, without exception. Charity, 
although as obligatory as justice, is more independent in its applica- 
tion. It chooses its time and place ; its objects and means ; its beauty 
is in its liberty. 

We have seen that practical morality or private morality 
has for its object to acquaint us with the application of theo- 
retical morality. It bears not so much on didij as on didies. 
The first question, then, that presents itself to us is that of 
the division of duties. 



34 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

17. Division of duties. — It has been reasonably asserted 
that there is in reahty but one duty, which is to do good 
under all circumstances, the same as it has also been said that 
there is but one virtue : wisdom, or obedience to the laws of 
reason. But as these two general divisions teach us in reality 
nothing touching our various actions, which are very numer- 
ous, it is useful and necessary to classify the principal circum- 
stances in which we have to act, in order to specify in a more 
particular manner wherein the general principle which com- 
mands us to do good may be applied in each case. 

Human actions may then be divided, either in regard to the 
different beings they have for their object, or in regard to the 
various faculties to which they relate. 

The ancients divided morality particularly in reference to 
the divers human faculties, and in private morality they con- 
sidered above all the virtues. 

The moderns, on the other hand, have divided morality 
particularly in its relations to the different objects of our 
actions ; and, in private morality, they have considered, above 
all, the duties. 

The ancients reduced all virtues to four principal ones : 
prudence, temperance, courage, and justice. .This division was 
transmitted to us, and it is these four virtues which the 
catechism teaches under the name of cardinal virtues. 

The moderns reduced duties to three classes : the duties 
towards ourselves, towards others, and towards God. Some 
add a fourth class, namely, duties towards animals. 

That portion of morality which treats of the duties towards 
ourselves, is called individual morality ; that which treats of 
the duties towards God, is called religious morality; that 
which treats of the duties towards other men, social morality. 
As to the duties towards animals, they are of so secondary an 
order, that it is not worth wliile to classify them apart ; we 
shall include them in social morality. 

vSociid morality is by far the most extended in precepts and 
applications, the various relations of men witli each other 



GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 35 

being extremely numerous. It may be subdivided into three 
parts : 1, general duties of social life, or morality proxjerly 
called social; 2, duties towards the State, or civil morality; 
3, duties towards the family, or domestic morality. 

AVe will begin with the study of social morality, social 
duties towards men in general, and we will first establish 
their principles and different varieties. 

Let us in a few^ pages rapidly take a summary review of 
the general principles of social morality. 

18. General principles of social duties : to do good, not 
to do evil. — All human actions, in regard to others, may be 
reduced to these two precepts : 1, to do good to men; 2, not 
to do them harm. To this all the virtues of social morality 
may be reduced. But before exliibiting these virtues and 
vices more in detail, let us explain wdiat is understood by the 
expressions to do good and to do evil. 

In the most general and apparent sense to do any one good 
would seem to be to give him pleasure ; to do him harm, would 
seem to be to give Mm pain. Yet, is it always doing good to a 
person to procure him pleasure 1 and is it ahvays doing him 
harm, to cause him pain? For example, Kant"^ says, "SliaU we 
allow the idler soft cushions ; the drunkard wanes in abund- 
ance ; the rogue an agreeable face and manners, to deceive more 
easily; the violent man audacity and a good fist?" Would 
it reaUy be doing good to these men to gTant them the object 
of their desires, what may satisfy their passions? On the 
other hand, the surgeon wdio amputates a mortified limb, the 
dentist who pulls out a bad tooth, the teacher wdio obliges 
you to learn, the father who corrects your faults or restrains 
your passions, do they really do you harm because they give 
you pain? Xo, certainly not. There are, then, cases wdiere 
to do some one good is to cause him pain, and to do him harm 
is to procure him pleasure. 

One may reasonably reduce all principles of social morality 
to these two maxims of the gospel : " Do not do to others what 

* Kant, Doctrine de la vertu. French translation of J. Barni, p. 171. 



36 ELEMENTS 01- MOHALS. 

you do not wish tliem do to you;" — "Do to others as you 
wish to be done by." These two maxims are admirable, cer- 
tainly ; but they must be interpreted rightly. If, for instance, 
we have done wrong, do we generally wish to be corrected 
and punished 1 When we are yielding to a passion, do we 
wish to be repressed in it, have it repelled 1 On the contrary, 
do we not rather wish to be allowed to enjoy it, and have the 
free range of our vices ? Is not this generally what we all 
wish, when the voice of duty is mute and does not silence 
our passionate feelings ? If this is so, should we wish to do 
to others as we wish in similar circumstances, namely, in the 
gratification of passions, to be done by 1 Should we not rather 
do to them what we should not like them do to us, that is, 
punish and correct them ? It is evidently not in that sense 
we are to understand the two evangelical maxims ; for they 
would be then no other than maxims of remissness and im- 
proper kindness ; whilst they, on the contrarj'-, express most 
admirably a moral truth ; only when they speak of what we 
wish, they mean a true and good wish, not the desires of pas- 
sion; the same when we recommend men to do good, we mean 
real good and not apparent good; as also in recommending to 
do no harm, we mean real harm, not the illusory harm of the 
senses, imagination and passions. 

Thus, to well understand the duties we have to fulfil towards 
other men, we must understand the distinction between true 
good and false good. False good is that Avhich consists 
exclusively in pleasure, all abstraction being made of useful- 
ness or moral vahie ; as, for example, the pleasures of pas- 
sions. True good is that which independently of pleasure 
recommends itself either through usefulness or through 
moral value ; as, for instance, health or education. The real 
evils, of course, are those which injure either the int(;rosts of 
others or their moral dignity, such as misery or corruption. 
Apparent evils are those which cause us to suffer but a mo- 
ment and redccin themselves by subsequent advantages : as, 
for instance, remedies or chastisements. 



aENEKAL PEmCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 37 

AMien we speak of good in regard to others, we should not 
fear to understand by that their interest, as well as their moral 
welfare; for, though we should not make our own interest 
the aim of our actions, it is not so in our relation with others. 
The seeking of our own happiness has no moral value; but 
the seeking of other people's happiness may have one, pro- 
vided, we repeat, that ^ve do not deceive ourselves touching 
the real sense of the word happiness, and that ^ve do not un- 
derstand by it a deceitful and short-lived delight. 

" To do to others as we wish to be done by ; not to do to 
them what we do not ivish they should do us," should, there- 
fore, be understood in the sense of an enlightened will, which 
wills for itself nothing but what is truly conformable either 
to a proper interest or to virtue. Thus understood (and it is 
their true sense*), these two maxims comprehend perfectly 
the whole of social morality. 

^19. Different degrees of this double obligation. — The 
sense of these two expressions, to do good and to do harm, 
being now well-defined, let us examine the various cases which 
may present themselves, in rising, so to say, from the lowest 
to the highest round of duty. Let us first suppose a certain 
good or a certain evil, which will not vary in any of the fol- 
lowing cases: this is the scale one may observe starting from 
the least virtue, to which corresponds evidently the greatest 
vice (by virtue of the principle set forth abovef), to rise to 
the highest virtue, to .which the least vice corresponds. 

1. Not to return evil for good. — This is, one may say (all 
things being equal), the feeblest of the virtues, as to return 
evil for good constitutes the greatest of wrongs. Say, for 
example, homicide : is it not evident that the murder of a 
benefactor is the most abominable of all ? that to rob a bene- 
factor is the most horrible of robberies ? that the slander of a 
benefactor is the most criminal of slanders 1 On the other 

* Kant is -wrong in rejecting these two maxims, interpreting them in the sense 
we have just refuted. 
t Chapter I., page 22. 



38 ELEMEKTS OF MORALS. 

hand again, not to kill, not to steal, not to slander, not to 
deceive a benefactor, is the minimum of moral virtue. To 
abstain from doing harm to him who has done you good, is a 
Avholly negative virtue, which is simply the absence of a 
crime. We cannot call that gratitude, for gratitude is a posi- 
tive virtue, not a negative one ; it is all in action, and not in 
omission ; but, l)efore being grateful, the first condition at 
least, is to be not ungrateful. We shall then say that the 
greatest of crimes is ingratitude. It is by reason of this prin- 
ciple that the crimes towards parents are the most odious of 
all ; for we have no greater benefactors than our parents, and 
without mentioning the crimes nature finds repugnant enough, 
it is evident that the same kind of harm (wounds, blows, 
insults, negligence, etc.) will always be more blamable when 
done to parents than to any other benefactors, and to bene- 
factors in general, than to any other men. 

2. Not to do liarm to those who have not done us any. — The 
violation of this maxim is the second degree of crime and of sin, 
somewhat less serious than the preceding one, but still odious 
enough that to abstain from it is, in many cases, a rather 
feeble virtue. Not to kill, not to steal, not to deceive, not to 
expose one's self to the punishments of the law, are, indeed, 
of a very feeble moral value ; whilst their contraries constitute 
the basest and most odious of actions. 

The kind of vice which injures others without provocation 
is what is called injustice, and when the pleasure of doing 
wrong is joined thereto, it is called cruelty. Cruelty is an 
injustice which rejoices in the harm done to others; injustice 
contents itself with taking advantage of it. There is, there- 
fore, a higher degree of evil in cruelty than in injustice pure 
and simple. 

The virtue opposed to injustice is justice, which has two 
degrees and two forms : the one negative, which consists 
simply in a})staining from doing injury to any one ; the second 
positive, which consists in renderinri to each his due. This 
second form of justice is more difficult than the first, for it is 



GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 39 

active. It is more difficult to restore to others what we hold 
as our own, or to pay one's debts, than to abstain from stealing; 
it is more difficult to speak well of one's rivals, than to abstain 
from slandering them ; it is more difficult to give up one's 
position to another who deserves it, than to abstain from tak- 
ing his ; and yet there are cases where justice requires one 
should act instead of simply abstaining. 

3. Not to return evil for good.' — Here we rise, in some 
respect, a degree in the moral scale. The two inferior degrees, 
namely, ingratitude and cruelty, have always and everywhere 
been considered as crimes. Nowhere has it ever been con- 
sidered allowable to do harm to those who have done us good. 
But in nearly all societies, at a certain degree of civilization, 
has it been considered allowable, and even praiseworthy, to 
return evil for evil. "To do good to our friends, and harm 
to our enemies," is one of the maxims the poets and sages of 
Greece oftenest repeat. Among the Indians of America, glory 
consists in ornamenting one's dwelling with the greatest 
possible number of scalps taken from conquered enemies. We 
know about the Corsican vendetta. In one word, the passioU. 
of revenge (which consists precisely in returning evil for evil) 
is one of the most natural and the most profound in the human 
heart, and it demands a very advanced moral education to 
comprehend that revenge is contrary to the laws of morality. 
Now, as the beauty of virtue is in proportion to the difficulty 
of the passions to be overcome, it is evident that the virtues 
contrary to revenge, namely : gentleness, clemency, pardon of 
injuries, are amongst the most beautiful and most sublime. 
Already among the ancients had morality reached this maxim, 
that one should not do any harm, namely, even to those who 
had done us some, as may be seen from the dialogue of Plato, 
entitled the Crito. " Socrates : One should then commit 
no injustice whatsoever?" ^^ Crito : No, certainly not." 
" Socrates : Then should one not be unjust even towards those 
who are unjust towards us. " 

4. Thus far we have only spoken of the virtues which ex^ 



40 eleme:n^ts of morals. 

press themselves negatively, and which consist especially in 
doing no harm. Let us now consider those which express 
themselves affirmatively, and which consist in doing good. The 
first degree is to return good for good : which is gratitude, 
the contrary of which, as we have seen, is ingratitude ; but 
there are two sorts of ingratitude, as there are two sorts of 
gratitude. There is a negative ingratitude, as there is a posi- 
tive ingratitude. The positive ingratitude, which is, as we 
have seen, the most odious of all crimes, consists in returning 
evil for good ; negative ingratitude consists simply in not 
returning good for good, namely, in forgetting a kindness. 
It is not so reprehensible as the former, but it has still a certain 
character of baseness. Gratitude is also twofold in its degrees 
and forms : it is negative, inasmuch as it abstains from injuring 
a benefactor -,* it is positive, inasmuch as it returns good for 
good. In one sense, gratitude is a part of justice, for it con- 
sists in returning to a benefactor what is due him ; but it is 
also a notable part, and one which deserves being pointed out, 
for it seems that there is nothing easier than to return good 
for good ; and experience, on the contrary, teaches us that there 
is nothing more rare. [This is certainly too strongly put/] 

5. To do good to those who have done us neither good nor 
harm. This is what is called charity, wdiich is a degree above the 
preceding, for in the preceding case we scarcely do more than 
give back what we have received ; in this case we put in 
something of our own. But to characterize this new degree 
of virtue, it is necessary to well explain that the question 
relates to a good that is not due. For justice, we have seen, 
does not always mean to abstain from evil ; it even does good 



* It would seem Iktg that negative gratitude becomes confounded M'itli negative 
ingratitude ; tlw; one doing no liarni, the other doing no good ; it wouhl seem as one 
and the same condition, wliereiu ueitlier harm nor good is done ; but tlie distinction 
exists nevertheless ; for the (juestion, on the one hand, is to do no harm wlien 
tempted to do some, and on the f)ther, not to do any good when there is an occasion 
for it. For example, he who despoils others, but abstains before his benefactor, 
cxi)eri(;nces a certain degree of gratitude, and he who does good to his friends and 
flattercis around him, and does not do any to his benefactor, is already ungrateful. 



GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 41 

sometimes. To restore a trust to one not expecting it ; to do 
good to him who deserves it ; to elect to a position one 
worthy of it ; or, what is still more heroic, to give one's OAvn 
position up to him, this evidently is doing good to others, and 
to those who have not done us any ; but these are goods due, 
which already belong in some respects to those upon whom 
w^e confer them. It is not so with the goods which charity 
distributes. The gifts I make to the poor, the consolations I 
give to the afflicted, the care I bestow upon the sick, all of 
which take from my time, my interests, and my life which I 
endanger to save a fellow-being, are also goods which are tr^ 
own and not his. I do not return to him what he would 
otherwise legitimately possess, whether he knows it or not. I 
give him something of my own ; it is a pure gift. This gift is 
suggested to me by love, not by justice. The contrary of 
charity or devotion to others is selfishness. 

Finally, there is a last degree above all other preceding 
degrees, namely, to return good for evil. This kind of virtue, 
the liighest of all, has no particular name in the language. 
Charity, in fact, consists in doing good generally, and com- 
prises the two degrees : to do good to the unfortunate, and 
return good for evil. Clemency may consist in simply par- 
doning ; it does not necessarily go so far as to return good for 
evil. 

Corneille might as well have called his tragedy of Cinna, 
the Clemency of Augustus, even if Augustus had merely 
pardoned Cinna, and not added : " Let us be friends!" Thus 
has this great and magnificent virtue no name, and as science 
is powerless in creating words suitable for every-day language, 
it must rest satisfied with periphrases. Nevertheless, this 
sublime virtue finds nowhere a grander expression than in 
those maxims of the Gospel : " You have been told that it 
was said : Thou shalt love thy neighbor and hate thy enemy : 
But I say to you : Love your enemies ; do good to those that 
hate you, and pray for those that despitefully use you and 
persecute you." 



42 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

20. Different kinds of social duties. — After the preceding 
division, which answers to the different degrees of obligation 
which may exist among men, there is another classification 
which rests on the various species or kinds of duties which we 
may have to perform towards our fellow-beings. Let us first 
briefly state what will be developed at greater length in the 
following chapters. 

1. Duties relating to the life of others. — According to the 
two maxims cited above, these duties are of two kinds : 
1, not to attempt the life of others; 2, to make efforts to 
^ve the life of others. All attempt at the life of others is 
called homicide. When accompanied by perfidy or treason, 
it is assassination. The murder of parents by children is 
called parricide ; of children by parents (especially at the 
tenderest age), infanticide ; of brothers by brothers, fratricide. 
All these crimes are most odious, and most repugnant to the 
human heart. Murder is never permitted, even when the 
highest interest and the greatest good is at stake. Thus did 
the ancients err in believing that the murder of a tyrant, or 
tyrannicide, was not only legitimate, but also honorable and 
beautiful. However, there is to be excepted the case of legiti- 
mate self-defense ; for we cannot be f orlndden to defend ourselves 
against him who wishes to deprive us of life. But the duel 
should not be considered an act of legitimate self-defense : that 
is evident in the case of the aggressor; and, on the other side, 
there is only the defense that there has been the consent to be 
put in peril. As to the question whether an attack on honor 
is not equivalent to an attack on life, it cannot be said that it 
is false in all cases ; but the abuse of the thing is here so near 
the principle, that it is wiser to condeum altogether a barbar- 
ous practice, of which so deplorable an abuse has been made. 
Finally, homicide in war, Avithin the conditions authorized 
by international law, is considered a case of legitimate self- 
defense.* 

* These questions will be examined more in detail in the next chapter. 



GEN-ERAL- PRIXCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 43 

If murder is the most criminal of actions, and the most 
revolting to our sensibilities, the action, on the contrary, which 
consists in saving the life of others is the most beautiful of all. 
" The good shepherd gives his life for the sheep." 

With the fundamental duty not to attempt the life of other 
men, is connected, as corollary, the duty not to injure them 
bodily by blows or wounds, or by dangerous violence done to 
their health, and, conversely, to assist them in illness. 

2. Duties relating to propertij. — It is evident"^ that man 
cannot preserve his life and render it happy and comfortable 
without a certain number of material objects which are his. 
The legitimate possession of these goods is what is called 
property.^ The rjght of property rests in one respect on so- 
cial utility, and in the other on human labor. On the one 
hand, society cannot subsist without a certain order that 
settles for each what is Ms own ; on the other, it is but right 
that each should be the proprietor of what he has earned by 
his work ; the right of possession carries with it the right of 
economizing, and, consequently, the right of forming a cap)ital, 
and, moreover, the right of using this capital in making it 
bear intei'est. Again, the right of preserving implies also the 
right of transmissioji ; hence the legitimacy of inheritance. 

Property once foimded upon law, it becomes our duty not 
to transgress the law. The act of taking what belongs to an- 
other is called theft. Theft is absolutely forbidden by the 
moral law, whatever name it may assume, or under whatever 
prestige it may present itself. " Thou shalt not steal." Theft 
does not consist merely in putting one's hand into a neigh- 
bor's pocket ; it includes all possible ways whereby the prop- 
erty of others may be appropriated. For example, to defraud 
in regard to the quality of the thing sold ; to practice illegal 
stock-Jobbing ; to convert to one's own use a deposit entrusted 



* See chapter IV. 

t Lawj'ers make a distinction between possession and property. The first consists 
simply in having the object in use ; the second, in enjoying its exclusive use, even 
if the object were not naturally in one's hands. 



44 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 

to one's care ; to borrow without knowing whether one 
can pay, and after having borrowed, to disown the debt, or 
refuse to pay it ; there are as many forms of theft as there 
are ways of appropriating the property of others. 

Kegarding the property of others, the negative duty then 
consists in not taking what belongs to others. The positive 
duty consists in assisting others with one's own property, in 
reheving their misery. This is called benevolence, which be- 
nevolence may be exercised in various ways, either by gift, or 
by loan. It may also be exercised in Mud, that is in giving to 
others the objects necessary to their maintenance or support, or 
in money, that is, in furnishing them the means of procuring 
them ; or in luork, which is the best of all gifts ; for in thus 
relieving others we procure them the means of helping them- 
selves. 

With the duty relating to the property of others, are con- 
nected as corollaries, the duties relating to the observance of 
agreements or contracts ; the transmission of property in so- 
ciety being not always done from hand to hand, but by means 
of promises and writings. To fail in keeping one's promise, 
to pervert the sense of solemn contracts, is, on the one side, 
to appropriate other people's property, and on the other, to lie 
and deceive, and thus to fail in a double duty. 

3. Duties relating to the families of others. — We have seen 
above what are the duties of man in his family ; there re- 
mains to be said a few words touching the duties towards the 
families of others. One may fail in these duties either by 
violating the conjugal bond, which is adultery ; or by carry- 
ing off other people's children, which is abduction, or by de- 
praving them through bad advice or bad examples, which is 
corruption. 

4. Duties relating to the honor of others. — One may fail in 
these duties, eitlier by saying to a man (who does not deserve 
it), wounding and rude things to his face, which are insidts, 
or in speaking ill of others ; and here we distinguish two de- 
grees : if what is said is true, it is backbiting j if what is said 



# GEXERAL PRIXCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 45 

is false aiid an invention, it is slander. In general one must 
not too easily ascribe evil to other men ; this kind of defect 
is what is called rash judgments. 

The positive duty respecting other people's reputation is to 
be just towards every one, even towards one's enemies ; to 
speak well of them if they deserve it, and even of those who 
speak ill of us. It is a duty to entertain a kindly disposition 
towards men in general, provided this does not go so far as to 
wink at wrong. In our relations with our neighbors, usage 
of the world has, in order to avoid quarrels and insults, in- 
troduced what is called politeness, which, for being a worldly 
virtue, is not the. less a necessary virtue in the order of 
society. 

5. Duties towards the Wberty of others. — These are rather 
the duties of the State than of the individual. They consist 
in respecting in others the liberty of conscience, the liberty 
of labor, individual liberty, personal responsibility, all of 
which are the natural rights of man. However, private indi- 
viduals may themselves also fail in this kind of duties. The 
violation of the liberty of conscience is called intolerance ; it 
consists either in employing force to constrain the consciences, 
or in imputing bad morals or bad motives to those who do not 
think as Ave do. The virtue opposed to intolerance is toler- 
ance, a disposition of the soul which consists, not in approv- 
ing what we tliink false, but in respecting in others what we 
wish they should respect in us, namely, conscience. One may 
also violate individual liberty, the liberty of labor, in keeping 
one's fellow-beings in slavery ; but slavery is rather a social 
institution than an individual act. However, there may be 
cases where one may seek to injure other people's work, in 
restraining others by threats from work ; which, for example, 
takes sometimes place in workmen's strikes. There is also a 
certain way of domineering over the freedom of others with- 
out restraining it materially, which constitutes real tyranny ; 
it is the dominion which a strong M'ill exercises over a feeble 
will, and of which it too often is tempted to take advantage. 



46 ELEMEI^TS OF MOEALS. ♦ 

On the contrary, it is a duty, not only to respect the liberty 
of others, but also to encourage it, to develop it, to enlighten 
it through education. 

6. Duties relating to friendship.— AW the preceding duties 
are the same towards all men. There are others which con- 
cern more particularly certain men, those, for example, to 
whom we are attached either by congeniality of disposition or 
uniformity of occupation, or a common education, etc., those, 
namely, whom we cdl\ friends. The duties relating to friend- 
ship are: 1, to choose well one's friends; to choose the 
honest, and enlightened, in order to find in their society en- 
couragement to right-doing. Nothing more dangerous than 
pleasure-friends or interested friends, united by vices and pas- 
sions, instead of being united by wisdom and virtue ; 2, the 
friends once chosen, the reciprocal duty is fidelity. They 
should treat each other with perfect equality and with confi- 
dence. They owe each other secrecy when they mutually 
entrust their dearest interests ; they owe each other self-devo- 
tion when they need each other's help. Finally, they owe to 
each other in a more strict and rigorous a sense, all they gen- 
erally owe to other men, for the faults or crimes against hu- 
manity in general assume a still more odious character when 
against friends. 

21. Professional duties and civic duties. — Such are the 
general duties of men in relation to each other, when simply 
viewed as men. But these duties become diversified and 
specialized according as we view man either in the light of 
the private functions he fills in society, which are his profes- 
sional duties, or in the light of the particular society of which 
he is a member, and which is called the State or the country, 
and these are the civic duties. (See chapters xii. and xiii.) 

22. Distinction between the duties of justice and the 
duties of charity. -We have said above that all the social 
duties could be reduced to these two maxims : " Do not do 
unto others what you do not wish they should do to you. Do 
to others as you wish to be done by." These two maxims 



1 



GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 47 

correspond with what is called : 1, the duties of justice ; 2, 
the duties of charity. 

The first consists in not doing wrong, or at least in repair- 
ing the wrong already done. Charity consists in doing good, 
or at least in giving to others what is not really their due. 
A celebrated writer* has made a very subtle and forcible dis- 
tinction between these two virtues : 

" The respect for the rights of others is called justice. All 
violation of any right whatsoever is an injustice. The greatest 
of injustices, since it comprises all, is slavery. Slavery is the 
subjugation of all the faculties of a man for the benefit of an- 
other. Moral personality should be respected in you as well 
as in me, and for the same reason. In regard to myself it 
has imposed a duty on me ; in you it becomes the foundation 
of a right, and imposes thereby, relatively to you, a new duty 
on me. I owe you the truth as I owe it to myself, and it is 
my strict duty to respect the development of your intelligence 
and not arrest its progress towards the truth. I must also 
respect your liberty ; perhaps even I owe it to you more than 
I do to myself, for I have not always the right to prevent you 
from making a mistake. 

" I must respect you in your affections, which are a part of 
yourself ; and of all the affections none are more holy than 
those of the family. To violate the conjugal and paternal 
right is to violate what a person holds most sacred. 

" I owe respect to your body, inasmuch as belonging to 
you, it is the instrument of your personality. I have neither 
the right to kill you nor to wound you, unless in self-de- 
fense. 

" I owe respect to your property, for it is the product of 
your labor ; I owe respect to your labor, which is your very 
liberty in action ; and if your property comes from inherit- 
ance, I owe respect to the free will which has transmitted it 
to you. 

* Victor Cousin, TJie True, the Beautiful, and the Good (lectures xxi. and xxil.). 



48 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 

" Justice, that is, the respect for the person in all that con- 
stitutes his personality, is the first duty of man towards his 
fellow-man. Is this duty the only one ? 

" When we have respected the person of others, when we 
have neither put a restraint upon their liberty, nor smothered 
their intelligence, nor maltreated their body, nor interfered 
with their- family rights nor their property, can we say that 
we have fulfilled towards them all moral duties 1 A wretch 
is here suffering before us. Is our conscience satisfied if we 
can assure ourselves that we have not contributed to his suf- 
ferings? 'No ; something tells us that it would be well if we 
should give him bread, help, consolation ; and yet this man 
in pain, who, perhaps, is going to die, has not the least right 
to the least part of our fortune, were this fortune ever so 
great ; and if he were to use violence to take a farthing from 
us, he would commit a crime. We shall meet here a new 
order of duties which do not correspond to rights. Man, we 
have seen, may resort to force to have his rights respected, 
but he cannot impose on another a sacrifice, whatever that 
may be. Justice respects or restores : charity gives. 

"One cannot say that to be charitable is not obligatory ; 
but this obligation is by no means as precise and as inflexible 
as justice. Charity implies sacrifice. Now, who will furnish 
the rule for sacrifice, the formula for self-renunciation ? For 
justice, the formula is clear : to respect the rights of others. 
But charity knows neither rule nor limits. It is above all 
obligation. Its beauty is precisely in its liberty." 

It follows from these considerations that justice is absolute, 
without restricti(jn, without exception. Charity, whilst it is 
as obligatory as justice, is more independent in its applica- 
tions ; it chooses its place and its time, considers its objects 
and means. In a word, as Victor Cousin says, " its beauty is 
in its liberty." 

Let us not hesitate to borrow from the Apostle St. Paul his 
admirable exaltation of charity : 

" Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and 



GEKERAL PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 49 

have not charity, I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling 
cymbal." 

" And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand 
all mysteries, and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, 
so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am 
nothing,"* 

" And though I bestowed all my goods to feed the poor, and 
though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, 
it profiteth me mothing." 

" Charity suffereth long, and is kind ; charity envieth not; 
charity vaunteth not itself ; is not puffed up. " 

" Doth not behave itself unseemely ; seeketh not her own ; 
is not easily provoked; think eth no evQ." 

" Beareth all things ; belie veth all things ; en dure th all 
things."! 

* Which is to say that the acts are nothing if the heart is absent, 
t St. Paul, 1 Cor., xiii., 1-7. 



o> 






^ 



CHAPTEE III. 

\ 'O' DUTIES OF JUSTICE — DUTIES TOWARDS HUMAl^ LIFE. 



SUMMARY. 

Division of the duties of justice. — Four kinds of duties : 1, towards 
the life of others ; 2, towards the liberty of others ; 3, towards the 
honor of others ; 4, towards the property of others. 

Duties towards human life. — Avoid homicide, acts of violence, and 
mutilation. Pascal and the Provinciales. 

The right of self-defense. — Right to oppose force to force. Limits 
of this right. 

Problems. — Four very grave problems are bound up in the question 
of self-defense : 1, the penalty of death; 2, political assassination; 
3, the duel ; 4, war. 

The penalty of death. — The penalty of death is the right of self- 
defense exercised by society : it is just so far as it is efficacious. 

Political assassination. — Murder is always a crime, under whatever 
pretext it may conceal itself. 

The duel. — The duel is at the same time a homicide and a suicide; it is 
ialsely considered justice, since it appeals to chance and skill. 

War. — War is the only mode of self-defense existing among nations ; 
it is desirable for the sake of humanity that it may some day disap- 
pear ; but humanity cannot now exact this sacrifice of the country. 

23. Division of social duties. — According to the fore- 
going distinctions, we will first divide duties into duties of 
justice and duties of charity. 

Let us begin by expounding the duties of justice. 

These duties may be summed up in a general manner in 
the res^ject fur the person of others, and for all that is necessary 



DUTIES TOWARDS HUMAI^ LIFE. 51 

for the preservation and development of that person. Hence 
four kinds of duties : 

1. Towards the life of other men. 

2. Towards their liberty. 

3. Towards their honor. 

4. Towards their property. 

Besides these duties, purely negative, which consist only in 
doing others no harm, there are also the duties of justice, 
which may be called positive ; and which consist not only in 
not injuring others, but also in granting each what he has a 
right to. This is called distrihutive or remunerative justice, 
and is the duty of all those who have others under them, and 
who are commissioned to distribute rewards, titles, or functions. 

24. Duties towards the life of men. — We have seen above 
that self-preservation is the duty of every one, and that one 
should not attempt one's own life, nor mutilate one's self, nor 
injure one's health. jSTow, all these obligations which we 
have towards ourselves, we have equally towards others ; for 
that which each owes to himself, he owes it to his quality, as 
man, to his quality as a free and reasonable being, a moral 
person. It is, as Kant says, humanity itself that each one 
must respect in his own person ; and it is also humanity which 
each must respect in others. We should not do to others 
what we do not wish that they should do to us, or what we 
should not wish to do to ourselves. Now, no one wishes others 
to attempt his life ; no one should wish to attempt it himself. 
For the same reason he should not wish to attempt the life of 
others. 

'These are such self-evident considerations that it is useless 
to insist on them. Let us add that this duty rests, besides, 
on one of the most powerful instincts of humanity, the instinct 
of sympathy for other men, the horror of their sufferings, the 
horror of spilt blood. Those who are wanting in this senti- 
ment are like monsters in the midst of humanity. 

One of the corollaries of this principle is to avoid the blows 
and wounds which might, through imprudence and unex- 



5^ ELEMENTS OF MORALE. 

pectedly, cause death, and which, besides, are in themselves 
to be condemned, inasmuch as they contribute, if not towards 
destroying, at least towards mutilating, the person and render- 
ing it unfitted to fulfil its duties and functions. In a word, 
to avoid scuffles, bodily quarrels, which are unworthy, more- 
over, from their very brutality, of a reasonable being ; all this 
is comprised in the duty of avoiding homicide. All may be 
summed up in these words of the Decalogue : " Thou shalt 
not kill.'''' 

Pascal, in his letter on homicide (xiv. Provinclale), expressed 
most eloquently the duty concerning the respect for human 
life: 

"Everybody knows, ray fathers, that individuals are never permitted 
to seek the death of any person, and that, even if a man should have 
ruined us, maimed i^, burnt our houses, killed our parents, and was 
preparing to murder us, to rob us of our honor, that our seeking his 
death would not be listened to in a court of justice. So that it was 
necessary to establish public functionaries who seek it in the name of 
the king, or rather in the name of God. Suppose, then, these public 
functionaries should seek the death of hira"Avho has committed all these 
crimes, how would they proceed ? Would they plunge the dagger in 
his breast at once ? No ; the life of man is too important ; they would 
proceed with more consideration ; the law has not left it subject to the 
decision of all sorts of people ; but only to that of the judges, whose 
integrity and sufficiency have been ascertained. And think you that 
one alone is enough to condeinn a man to death ? No ; there are at 
least seven required ; and among these seven there must not be any one 
whom the criminal has in any way offended, for fear that his judgment 
be affected, or corrupted by anger. In short, they can judge him only 
upon the testimony of witnessses, and according to the other forms 
prescribed to them ; in consequence of which they can conscientiously 
pronounce upon him only according to law, or judge worthy of death 
only those whom the law condemns." 

After having thus expoundcid the innumeralde precautions 
which society has taken, out of respect for human life, touching 
tlie i)ersons of criminals, Pascal continues as follows: 

" Heliold ill wliat way, in the order of justice, the life of man is dis- 



DUTIES TOWARDS HUMAK LIFE. 53 

posed of ; let us see now how you dispose of it. * In your new laws 
there is but one judge, and this judge is the offended party. He is at 
the same time judge, accuser, and executioner. He seeks himself the 
death of his enemy ; he commands it, he executes him on the spot ; and, 
without respect for either the body or soul of his brother, he kills and 
damns him for whom Christ died ; and all this to avenge an affront, 
or slander, or an insulting word, or other similar offences for which a 
judge, although clothed with legal authority, would be considered a 
criminal if he should condemn to death those who had committed 
them, because the laws themselves are very far from condemning them. " 

Finally, gathering into one word all the evils which homi- 
cide comprises, Pascal ends by saying " homicide is the only 
crime which at the same time destroys the State, the Church, 
nature, and piety." 

25. The right of self-defense. — None of the foregoing 
principles would present the shadow of a difficulty to any 
except those who are nearer the brute than man, if it were 
not for an apparent exception to the rule, which is the case 
of legitimate self-defense. To understand properly the solu- 
tion of this question, it is necessary to examine carefully 
the nature of the relations which bind men to each other. 

Every man is a moral person; that is to say, a free 
being, and for that very reason inviolable in his dignity 
and in his rights. He is, as Kant says, an end to him- 
self, and should not be treated as a means. The things of 
nature are to us but means to satisfy our wants ; we may 
therefore mutilate and destroy them, not as our whims may 
dictate, but as our wants require. Thus can we cut the finest 
trees of a forest to make fire of, or for furniture. We even 
claim a similar right over animals, although it may, perhaps, 
not be so evident. But we have no such right over man. 
We can neither mutilate nor destroy him for our use. 

And, in fact, to destroy or mutilate through sheer force a 
member of humanity, is to apply to him the law of compulsion, 
which is the law of physical nature, and which without reserve 

* In the Provinciales this apostrophe is addressed to the Jesuits, whom Pascal 
accuses of loose maxims on the subject. 



54 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

governs all physical phenomena : it is to make of man a thing 
of nature, to see in him the body only, and ignore the soul. 

The consequence of such conduct is evident : it is that 
whosoever employs against another the law of compulsion 
means thereby that he does not recognize between himself and 
other men any other law but that. Treating them as if they 
were purely physical agents, he gives us thereby to understand 
that he recognizes himself, and expects to be treated, as such ; 
he means to take advantage of his strength as long as he is the 
strongest, but gives us to understand thereby that he is satisfied 
to submit to strength if he is the weaker. 

It is here that the i^ight of self-defense comes in. He who 
is violently attacked, has the right to oppose to violence just 
as much strength as there is employed against him. Other- 
wise, in allowing himself to be knocked down by strength, 
he would consent to the abasement, to the suppression of his 
own personality ; he would in some respect be the accomplice 
of the violence he is made to suffer. Some Christian sects, 
straining this point, go so far as to condemn absolutely the 
right of self-defense ; they do not see that this would infallibly 
bring with it the triumph of brute force, and the suppression 
of all justice. Such sects may, to a certain extent, manage to 
exist in civilized societies ; but the principle is self-destructive, 
since not to resist violence is in some respect to be its accom- 
plice. 

Yet, whilst admitting the right of self-defense, it is necessary 
to recognize its limits. " This agent," says M. Kenouvier, 
" whom the right of self-defense treats as a brute, this being is 
a man, nevertheless, or has been one, or may become such. 
Hence the doctrine of conscience is to admit this right only 
when necessary, and not beyond what is necessary. " {Moral 
Science, Ch. lvi.) This is, to begin with, a natural conse- 
(pience of the duties towards one's self , since it is already a sur- 
render of one's dignity to be obliged to act in the capacity of 
a physicid agent, and renounce one's character of a moral per- 
son; it is also a duty towards humanity in general, which is 



DUTIES TOWARDS HUMAN" LIFE. 55 

represented by every man, even the most violent and the 
most uncultivated. 

26. Problems. — The right of legitimate self-defense gives 
rise to a certain number of problems relative to the law of 
homicide. M. Jules Simon"^ reduces them to five : homicide 
in case of self-defense, penalty of death, political assassination, 
duel, and war. In the first case it is implied in what pre- 
cedes, that legitimate self-defense may go so far as to deprive 
another man of life ; but only in case of absolute necessity. 

There remain the four other cases, which are not all of the 
same order. 

27. The penalty of death. — The penalty of death in 
these days has been very much contested, and several States 
have tried to abolish it. f 

The following arguments are brought to bear against it : 

1. Tlie inviolability of human life. — The State, it is said, 
should not give the example of what it proscribes and punishes. 
Now, it punishes homicide ; then it should not itself commit 
homicide. 

2. The possible mistakes, which in all other cases can be 
corrected, but which in this case alone are irreparable. 

3. Experience, which, it is said, tells against it in certain 
countries by proving that the number of crimes has not been 
increased by the suppression of the penalty of death. 

4. Finally, the refinement of manners, which can no longer 
bear the idea of capital punishment. 

1^0 one of these arguments is wholly decisive. 

1. The inviolability of human life is not an absolute thing, 
at least not for those who admit the right of legitimate self- 
defense. We shall examine this presently. 

2. Judiciary mistakes are very rare, and will become more 

* Le Devoir. Part iv., Ch. iii. 

t In Tuscany the penalty of death was abolished in theeighteentli century by the 
Grand Duke Leopold. It was again established with the Grand Duchy's annexation 
to the Kingdom of Italy. In Switzerland, after being abolished by the Confeder- 
ation, the penalty of death was finally left to be determined by each particular can- 
ton. 



56 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

and more so, as justice becomes more respectful towards the 
rights of the accused, and through greater publicity, by the 
intervention of a jury, etc. 

3. Experience is not so much of a test as it is said to be, and 
is often made on too small a scale. The attempts at abolition 
have not been very numerous. In Tuscany murders have 
always been very rare on account of the gentleness of man- 
ners. In Switzerland, on the contrary, crime is on the in- 
crease, and certain cantons have asked for a return to the death 
penalty. Besides, it is a very difficult experiment to make. 
How could a society as complicated as ours dare to trust its 
security to so hazardous an experiment ? 

4. The refinement of manners may gradually bring about, 
thanks to the institution of the jury, the diminution, perhaps 
some day the suppression, of the penalty of death, without its 
being necessary for the State to lay aside this powerful means 
of defense and intimidation. 

The penalty of death, in fact, can be considered legitimate 
only in the light of the right of self-defense. If society needs 
this penalty to protect the life of its members, it may be said 
that it is authorized to use it, on the same ground as each in- 
dividual to whom we have conceded the right to repel force 
by force, and to deprive of his own life one who should 
threaten to take his life. 

But, it will be objected, the right of self-defense, when end- 
ing in homicide, is justifiable only at the moment of the attack, 
and to ward off a sudden aggression itself threatening murder ; 
but tlie deed once committed and the criminal in the hands of 
the law, there is no reason to fear a new aggression from him, 
and his chances of escape from justice through evasion are too 
few to justify the violation of a duty so absolute as the re- 
spect for human life. 

It may be answered that society, by the death penalty, not 
only defends itself against the criminal himself, but against 
all tliose who miglit be inclincMl to imitate him. The penalty 
of death is above all a precautionary means of defense, that 



DUTIES TOWARDS HUMAK LIFE. 57 

is to say, a means of intimidation. The future criminal is 
warned beforehand of the risks he runs ; lie accepts volun- 
tarily the punishment he will incur. If society should catch 
him in the Sict^iagrante delicto — it would certainly, in order 
to prevent the crime, since it is the representative of all indi- 
viduals, have the same rights as the individual of defending 
himself. But the difficulty of seizing upon the criminal at the 
moment of commission, can it be considered a circumstance 
in favor of the criminal, and does society lose its right, be- 
cause, through the skill and precautions of assassins, it 
can but very rarely, and scarcely ever, catch them in the 
act? 

The right of society to defend itself by the death penalty 
does not seem to us, then, to admit any doubt. The whole 
question is to know whether such a means of defense is really 
necessary and efficacious. It is, as as we have said, a question 
of experience which it is very difficult to settle, for the rea- 
son that we dare not make the experiment. All that can be 
said is that, as a principle, every man fears death ; it is the 
greatest of fears. There is, therefore, reason to believe that 
it is the most powerful of the means of intimidation. Be- 
sides, it is known that professional criminals estimate with 
great accuracy offenses and crimes proportionably to their 
penalties. Thus, those who steal know that they expose 
themselves to such or such punishment, but they go no far- 
ther in order not to incur a more severe punishment ; for 
these the penalty of death is certainly a great item in their 
plans, and it would be dangerous to relieve them of this 
menace. 

We do not mean to say that in future society may not 
reach a state of organization strong and enlightened enough to 
be able to do without such means ; but in the present state of 
things we should consider the attempt to abolish them danger- 
ous for society. 

28. Of political assassination. — Concerning this pre- 
tended right, so shockingly promulgated in these days by 



58 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

savage factions, we cannot do better than quote the words of 
M. Jules Simon in his book on Duty : 

" PoHtical assassination," he says, " is essentially worthy of condem- 
nation from whichever side one looks at it. It has the same origin as 
the penalty of death, Avith this double difference that, in the applica- 
tion of the penalty of death, it is the State that pronounces the sentence 
conformably to the law, whilst in political assassination it is the same 
man who makes the law, pronounces the sentence, and executes it. 
Now, society, though badly constituted, and the law, though bad, are 
nevertheless a guaranty, whilst there is none at all against the caprice, 
passion or false judgment of a single individual. Besides, the legiti- 
macy of the penalty of death is connected with the legitimacy of the 
power that pronounces it, and the uniformity of the law. Let some 
tyrannical authority cause a man to be shot at the corner of a street, 
without form of legal process, that cannot be called penalty of death ; 
it is called murder ; and even when the victim should have deserved 
his death, the government would not be the less criminal for having 
executed him without trial. If these principles are just, how can we 
admit the theory of political assassination, which allows the destiny of 
all to depend upon the conscience of a single individual. We reflect so 
little upon the rights of men that there are those who will condemn the 
death penalty and yet approve of political assassination. We judge so 
badly, that under the Restoration a monument was erected to Georges 
Cadoudal, and we hear every day the eulogy of Charlotte Corday. The 
guiltiness of the victim does not legitimate the act of the murderer. 
It is both unwise and criminal to furnish hatred with such excuses." 

29. The duel. — Does the duel come under the head of 
legitimate self-defense ? No ; whatever custom and prejudice 
may say in its favor. 

1. We must first lay aside without discussion all duels 
bearing on frivolous causes, and they are the largest in num- 
ber. 

2. In many other cases reparation may be obtained through 
the law, and prejudice alone can prevent having recourse to 
it. If I am willing to have recourse to law in a case of rob- 
bery, why should I not appeal to this same law when my 
honor is attacked ? 

3. The duel is an absurd form of justice, because it puts 



DUTIES TOWAKDS HUMAi^ LIFE. 59 

the offender and the one offended on the same level. It is 
not the guilty one that is punished ; it is the awkward one. 

4. Social justice has degi-ees of penalty in proportion to the 
gravity of the offense, and is applied only after a very severe 
examination. The aim of the duel is to apply to very un- 
equal offenses one and the same penalty, death (Jules Simon, 
Le Devoir, IT.), or if there are any degrees, since it does not 
always residt in death, these degrees are the effect of chance. 
Finally, if in a duel the parties agree to use skill enough to 
hurt each other as little as possible, is it not as if they con- 
fessed to the injustice and insanity of the proceeding ? 

5. The duel had its origin in superstition : in the Combat 
of God, in the belief, namely, that God himself would arbi- 
trate by means of the combat, and give the victory to the in- 
nocent and strike the guilty. 

6. The duel is a homicide or a suicide. It is, therefore, 
contrary to the duty towards others and the duty towards our- 
selves. Finally, the duel is contrary to the duty towards so- 
ciety, which forbids each to be Ms own judge. 

J. J. Kousseau, in the NouvelJe Heloise, has written on the 
duel and suicide (see further on, Chapter xi.,) a letter often 
quoted, of which we will briefly give the principal passages. 

1. One must distinguish between real honor and apparent 
honor : 

What is there in common between the glory of killing a man and the 
testimony of a righteous soul ? What hold can the vain opinion of 
othei-s have upon true honor, the roots of which are in the depths of the 
heart ? What I the lies of a slanderer can destroy real virtues ? Do the 
insults of a drunkard prove that one deserves them ] And can the 
honor of a sensible man be at the mercy of the first rufl&an he meets ? 

2. The use of force cannot be a title to virtue : 

Will you tell me that one must show courage, and that courage suf- 
fices to efface the shame and reproach of all other vices ? In this case 
a rogue would have but to fight a duel to cease to be a rogue ; the words 
of a liar would become true if maintained at the point of a sword ; and 
if you were charged with having killed a man, you would go and kill a 



60 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

second one to prove that the charge is not true. Thus, virtue, vice, 
honor, infamy, truth, falsehood, all derive their being from the event 
of a fight ; a fencing-hall becomes the seat of all justice ; might makes 
right. 

3. Antiquity, so rich in heroes and great characters, knew 
nothing of the duel. There may then exist societies civilized 
and refined where a man may defend his honor without having 
to resort to the duel. This is a remarkably striking argu- 
ment :* 

Did ever the valiant men of antiquity think of avenging their per- 
sonal insults by single combats ? Did Csesar send a challenge to Cato, 
or Pompey to Csesar ? "Other times, other manners," you'll say, I 
know, but true honor does not vary ; it does not depend on times or 
places or prejudices ; it can neither pass away nor be born again; it has 
its eternal source in the heart of the just man and in the unalterable 
rule of his duties. If the most enlightened, the bravest, the most vir- 
tuous nations of the earth knew nothing of the duel, I say that it is 
not an institution of honor, but rather a frightful and barbarous fashion 
worthy of its savage origin. 

4. It is not true that a man of honor incurs contempt by 
refusing a duel : 

The righteous man whose whole life is pure, who never gave any sign 
of cowardice, will refuse to stain his hand by a homicide, and will be 
only the more honored for it. Always ready to serve his country, to 
protect the feeble, to fulfil the most dangerous duties, and defend in all 
just and honest encounters, and at the price of his blood, what he holds 
dear, he will reveal in all his transactions that resolute firmness which 
always accompanies true courage. In the security of his conscience he 
walks with head erect ; he neither flies from nor seeks his enemy ; one 
can easily see that he fears less to die than to do wrong, and that it is 
not danger he shuns, but crime. 

30. War. — War is the most serious and the most solemn 
exception to the law which forbids homicide. Not only does 

♦ It answers the frequent assertion that the courtesy and regards which men owe 
eacli other reciprocally, would soon disappear if they were not protected by the re- 
source of the duel. 



DUTIES TOWAEDS HUMAN LIFE. 61 

it permit homicide, but it commands it. The means thereto 
are prepared in public ; the art of practicing them is a branch 
of education, and it is glorious to destroy as many enemies as 
possible. 

One cannot fail to see the sad side of war, and how contrary 
it is to the ideal tendencies of modern society. It is still to 
be hoped that there will come a time when nations will 
find a more rational and more humane means of conciliating 
their differences. But there is no indication of this good time 
as yet, nor even that it is near, and it is necessary to guard 
against a false philanthropy, which would imperil the sacred 
rights of patriotism. 

The problem of war in itself belongs rather to the law of na- 
tions than to morality properly so called. It will be in studying 
later the relations of the nations between each other that we 
shall have to establish as a rule that the right of self-defense 
exists for them as well as for the individual. The only ques- 
tion in a moral point of view is to know whether the indi- 
vidual, by the sole fact of the order of society, is released 
from the duty imposed on him not to shed blood. Some re- 
ligious sects in the early times of Christianity, others in 
modern times in England and in America (the Quakers), be- 
lieve that the interdiction of homicide is an absolute thing ; 
they claim the right to be exempt from military duty. The 
State, of course, never recognized the legitimacy of such a 
scruple, which would prevent all social subordination and de- 
prive the defense of the country of aU its strength. But 
neither does morality recognize such a right. As a part of a 
society which is commissioned to defend us, and wliich can 
do so only by using force, it is evident that each one should 
share in the acts by which it undertakes to defend us. For 
how can malefactors be prosecuted without employing force 1 
The same may be asked as to enemies from without, Now, as 
society defends every one equally, it cannot make any excep- 
tion in favor of such or such scruple. It can grant exemp- 



62 FLEMEN"TS OF MORALS. 

tions, but cannot admit that each should exempt himself by 
the scruples of his conscience. 

Certainly it ought not to be maintained that any order given 
by society releases the individual conscience from all consider- 
ation. But obedience to the law is the foundation of social 
order, and co-operation in the public defense is a duty of ab- 
solute necessity. Of course one assumes in this view im- 
plicitly the legitimacy of war ; but this question will be 
treated later on by itself, and in accordance with the reasons 
belonging to it. 



CHAPTEE lY. 



DUTIES coi^cer:n'ii^g the propeety of others. 



SUMMARY. 

Of property. — Its fundamental principle ; work sanctioned by law. 
Communistic Utopia. — Inequality of wealth : it is founded on nature, 
but should not be aggravated by the law. — Different forms of the 
rights of property : loans, trusts, things lost, sales, ino^perty 'properly 
so called. 

Loan. — Is it a duty to loan ? — The interest of money. — The question of 
usury. — Duties oi creditor and debto7\ — Failures and bankruptcies. — 
The commodate or things loaned for use. 

Trust. — Duties of the depositary and the deponent. 

Of the possession in good faith. — The thing lost. 

Sales. — Obligations oi seller and buyer. 

Of property In general. — Violation of property or theft. — The ele- 
ments which constitute t\ieit.— Simple thefts and qualified thefts. — 
Abuse of confidence, swindling. — Restitution. 

Promises and contracts. — Differences between these two facts. — Strict 
obligation to keep one's promises : rare exceptions (practical impos- 
sibility, illicit promises, etc. )— Different kinds of contracts. —CowcZi- 
tions of the contract : consent, capacity of contracting parties, a real 
object, a licit cause. — Rules for the formation of contracts. — Rules 
for the interpretation of contracts. 

The immediate consequence of the right of self-preservation 
which each has, etc., implies the right of propei'ty. 

31. Property. — What is property? What is its origin and 
principle 1 What objections has it raised 1 What moral and 



64 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

social reasons justify it, rendering its maintenance both sacred 
and necessary ? 

" Property," says the civil code, " is the right to enjoy and 
dispose of things in the most absolute manner, provided no use 
is made of them prohibited by the laws or the rules." (Art. 544.) 

"The right of property," says the Constitution of '93, " is 
that which belongs to every citizen : to enjoy, and dispose at 
will of his property, his income, of the fruit of his labor and 
industry." (Art. 8.) 

These are the judicial and political definitions of property. 
Philosophically, it may be said, that it is the right each man 
has to make something Ms oion, that is to say, to attribute to 
himself the exclusive right to enjoy something outside of 
himself. 

We must distinguish between possession and property. 
Possession is nothing else than actual custody : I may have in 
my hands an object that is not mine, which has either been 
loaned to me, or which I may have found ; this does not make 
me its proprietor. Property is the right I have to exclude all 
others from the use of a thing, even if I should not be in 
actual possession of it. 

32. Origin and fundamental principle of property.— The 
first property is that of my own body, but thus far it is nothing 
else than what may be called corporeal liberty. How do we 
go beyond that 1 How do we extend this primitive right 
over things which are outside of ourselves 1 

I^et us first remark that this right of appropriating external 
things rests on necessity and on the laws of organized beings. 
It is evident, in fact, that life cannot be preserved otherwise 
than by a perpetual exchange between the parts of the living 
body and the particles of the surrouading bodies. Nutrition 
is assimilation, and, consequently, appropriation. It is, then, 
necessary that certain things of the external world should be- 
come mine, otherwise life is impossible. 

Property is then necessary ; let us now sec by what means 
it becomes legitimate. 



DUTIES COJs^CERXlNG THE FROPERTY OF OTHERS. 65 

Property has been given several origins : occupation, law, 
icork. According to some, property has for its fundamental 
principle the right of the first occupant. It is said that man 
has the right of appropriating a thing not in possession of 
some one else ; the same as at the theatre, the spectator who 
comes first has the right to take the best place. (Cicero.) So 
be it ; but at the theatre I occupy only the place occupied by 
my own body : I have not the right to appropriate the whole 
theatre, or even the pit. It is the same with the right of the 
first occupant. I have certainly a right to the place my own 
body would occupy, but no further : for where would my 
right then stop ? 

" "Will the setting one's foot," says J. J. Rousseau, " on a piece of com- 
mon ground be sufficient to declare one's self at once the master of it? When 
Xunez Balboa took on landing possession of the Southern Sea, and of 
the whole of Southern America in the name of the CroAvn of Castile, 
■was that enough to exclude from it all the princes of the world ? At 
that rate the Catholic king had but to take all at once possession in his 
study of the whole miiverse, relying upon subsequently striking otf 
from his empire what before was in possession of the other princes. " 
(Contrat social, Hv. ler, Ch. ix. ) 

The law. — If occupation of itseK alone is insufficient in 
foimding the right of property, will it not become legitimate 
by adding to it convention — that is to say, the laic ? Property, 
we have seen, is necessary ; but if every one is free to appro- 
priate to himself what he needs, it becomes anarchy ; it is, as 
Hobbes said, " the war of all against all." It is necessary 
that the law should fix the property of each in the interest of 
all. Property, under this new hypothesis, would then mean 
the part Avhich public authority has fixed or recognized, whether 
we admit a primitive division made by a magistrate, or a 
primitive occupation more or less due to chance, but conse- 
crated by law. 

Certainly, the reason of social utility plays a great part in 
the establishment and consecration of property ; and it woidd 
be absurd not to take this consideration into account. Cer- 



66 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

tainly, even if property were but a fact consecrated by time, 
by necessity, and by law, it would already by that alone have 
a very great authority ; but we believe that that is not saying 
enough. Property is not only a consecrated fact, it is also a 
right. It finds in the law its guaranty, but not ii^ foundation. 

The true principle of property is work ; and property be- 
comes blended with liberty itself : " lihei'ty and property, ^^ 
say the EngHsh. 

Work. — If all the things man has need of were in unlimited 
number, and if they could be acquired without effort, there 
would be no property. This, for example, takes place in the 
case of the atmosphere, of which we all have need, but which 
belongs to no one. But if the question is of things that can- 
not be acquired except by a certain effort (as in the case of 
animals running wild), or even that can be produced only by 
human effort (as a harvest in a barren ground), these things 
belong by right to him who conquers them or brings them 
about. 

" I take wild wheat into my hand, I sow it in soil I have dug, and I 
wait for the earth, aided by rain and sunshine, to do its work. Is 
the growing crop my property ? Where would it be without me ? I 
created it. Who can deny it ? . . . This earth was worth nothing 
and produced nothing : I dug the soil ; I brought from a distance 
friable and fertilizing earth ; I enriched it with manure ; it is now fertile 
for many years to come. This fertility is my work . . . The earth 
belonged to no one ; in fertilizing it, I made it mine. According to 
Locke, nine tenths at least of the produce of the soil should be 
attributed to human labor. " * 

It has been said that work is not a sufficient foundation to 
estalDlish the right of property ; that occupation must be added 
thereto, for otherwise work alone would make us the pro- 
prietors of what is already occupied by others ; the farmer 
would become the proprietor of the fields he cultivates from 
the fact alone that he cultivates them. Occupation is there- 
fore a necessary element of property. 

♦Jules ISimon, La Liberie, ii. part, cli. iii. /nI 

/ 



DUTIES COXCER]S"I>^G THE PROPEETY OF OTHERS. 67 

Certainly ; but occupation itself has no value except as it 
already represents labor, and inasmuch as it is labor. The 
fact of culling a fruit, of seizing an animal, and even of setting 
foot upon a desert land, is an exercise of my activity which is 
more or less easy or difficult to accomplish, but which in 
reality is not the less the result of an effort. It is, then, work 
itself which lays the foundation of occupation and consecrates 
it. But when the thing once occupied has become the prop- 
erty of a man by a first work, it can no longer without con- 
tradiction become the property of another by a subsequent 
work. This work applied to the property of others is not the 
less itself the foundation of property, namely : the price 
received in exchange of work, which is called salary, and 
which again by exchange can obtain for us the possession of 
things not ours. 

33. Accumulation and transmission. — The right of ap- 
propriation, founded as we have just seen on work, carries 
mth it as its consequence, the right of accumulation and that 
of transmission. 

In fact, if I have acquired a thing, I can either enjoy it 
actually, or reserve it to enjoy it later ; and if I have more 
than my actual wants require, I can lay aside what to-day 
is useless to me, but which will be useful to me later. This 
is what is called saving; and the successive additions to savings 
is called accumulation. This right cannot be denied to man ; 
for that would be ignoring in him one of his noblest facul- 
ties, namely, the faculty of providing for the future. In 
suppressing this right, the very source of all production, 
namely, work, would dry up ; for it is his thought of the 
future which, above all, induces man to work to insure his 
security. 

The right of transmission is another consequence of prop- 
erty ; for if I have enjoyment myself, I ought to be able to 
transmit it to others ; finally, I can give up my property to 
obtain in its place the property of others which might be 
more agreeable or more useful to me ; hence the right of ex- 



68 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

change, which gives rise to what is called purchase and sale. 
Of all transmissions, the most natural is that which takes 
place between a father and his children : this is what is 
called inheritance. If we were to deprive the head of a 
family of the right of thinking of his children in the accumu- 
lation of the fruits of his labors, we should destroy thereby 
the most energetic instigation to work there is in the human 
heart. 

34. Individual property and the community. — The ad- 
versaries of property have often said that they did not attack 
property in itself, but only individual property. The soil 
which, if not the principle, is at least the source of all riches, 
belongs, they say, not to the individual, but to society ; to the 
State, that is to say, to all, as common and undivided property : 
each individual is but a consumer, and receives his share from 
the State, which alone is the true proprietor. This is what is 
called the community system, or communism, which takes two 
forms, according as it admits the division to be made in a 
manner absolutely equal among the co-members of the society, 
which is the eqiiality system {systeme egalitaire) ; or by reason 
of capacity and works. It is this form of communism which 
the school of Saint-Simon maintains at this day. 

We need not point out the practical impossibility of realiz- 
ing such a system. Let us confine ourselves to showing its 
essential vice. If communism means absolute equality (and 
true communism does), it destroys the main induceuient to 
work : for man assured of his living by the State, has nothing 
left to stimulate him to personal effort. Work, deprived of 
the hope of a legitimate remuneration, would be reduced to a 
strict minimum, and civilization, which lives by work, would 
rapidly go backward : general wretchedness would be the neces- 
sary consequence of tliis state of things ; all would be equally 
poor and miseraljle ; humanity would go back to its primitive 
state, to get from whicli it struggled so hard, Jind from which 
it emerged by means of work and property alone. Moreover, 
as it is absolutely impossible to dispense with work, the State 



DUTIES CON"CERKIKG THE PROPERTY 



71 



would be obliged to enforce it upon those whox 
did not spontaneously incline to it; from beii 
would become servile, and the pensioners of the 
in reality be but its slaves. 

As to the inequality-communism {communisme int . e) 

which recommends a remuneration from the State, proportioned 
to merit and products, that is to say, to capacity and luorks, it 
certainly does not so very seriously impair the principle of 
property and liberty ; but, on the one hand, it does not satisfy 
the instincts of equality,* which have at all times inspired the 
communistic Utopias ; on the other, it attacks the family 
instincts by suppressing inheritance ; now, if man is interested 
in his own fate, he interests himself still more, as he grows 
old, in the fate of his children; in depriving him of the 
responsibility for their destinies, you deprive him of the 
most energetic stimulus to work ; and the tendency woidd be, 
though in a lesser degree, to produce the same evil of general 
impoverishment, as would communism properly so called. But 
the principal vice of all communism, whether of equality or 
inequality, is to substitute the State for the individual, to 
make of all men functionaries, to commit to the State the 
destinies of all individuals ; in one word, to make of the State 
a providence.! 

35. Inequality of riches. — Yet there will always arise in 
the mind a grave problem : Wliy are goods created for all, 
distributed in so unequal and capricious a manner ? Why the 
rich and the poor 1 and if inequality must exist, why is it not 
in proportion to inequality of merit and individual work] 
A\niy are the idle and prodigal sometimes rich % Wliy are 
the poor overwhelmed by both work and poverty 1 

There are two questions here : 1. Why is there any in- 
equality at all? 2. AMiy, supposing this inequality must 



* Tlius we see Saint Simonian ideas completely disappear from the modern social- 
istic sects which all tend to blend with the equality-communism pure and simple. 

t On the question of property, see Thiers, La ProprUte (1S4S) and the Harmonies 
economiques de Bastiat, oh. viii 



6d ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

exist, has it no connection with merit or the work of the in- 
dividual 1 

Regarding the first point, we cannot deny, unless we should 
wish to suppress all human responsibility, all free and per- 
sonal activity — in a word, all liberty — we cannot deny, 1 say, 
that the inequality of merit and of work does not authorize 
and justify a certain inequality in the distribution of prop- 
erty. 

But, it is said, this inequality is not always in proportion 
to the work. It may be answered that as civic laws become 
more perfect (by the abolition of monopoly, privileges, abuse 
of rights, such as the feudal rights, etc.,) the distribution of 
riches will tend to become more and more in proportion to 
individual merit and efforts. There remain but two sources 
of inequality which do not proceed from personal work : 1, 
accidents ; 2, hereditary transmission. But in regard to acci- 
dents, there is no way of absolutely suppressing the part 
chance plays in man's destiny ; it can only be corrected and 
diminished, and thereto tend the institutions of life-assur- 
ances, savings-banks, banks of assistance, etc., which are 
means of equalization growing along with the general pro- 
gress. As to the inequality produced by inheritance, one of 
two things is to be considered : either the heir keeps and in- 
creases by his own work what he has acquired, and thus suc- 
ceeds in deserving it ; or, on the contrary, he ceases to work 
and consumes without producing, and in this case he destroys 
his privilege himself without the State's meddling with it. 

Besides, the question is less concerning the relative well- 
being of men than their absolute well-being. What use would 
it be to men to be all equal if they were all miserable ? There 
is certainly more equality in a republic of savages than in our 
European societies ; but how many of our i)oor Europeans are 
there who would exchange their condition for an existence 
among savages'? In reality, social progress, in continually in- 
creasing general wealtli, increases at the same time the well- 
being of eacli, without increasing the sum of individual ellbrts. 



DUTIES co:n'cerj^ixg the property of others. 71 

This snperaddition of well-being is in reality gratuitous, as 
Bastiat has demonstrated. " Hence," as he says, " with a 
community increasing in well-being,* as by property ever 
better guaranteed, we leave behind us the community of misery 
from which we came." 

" Property," says Bastiat, "tends to transform onerous into gratuitous 
utility. It is that spur which obliges human intelligence to draw from 
the inertia of matter its latent natural forces. It struggles, certainly 
for its own benefit, against the obstacles which make utility onerous ; 
and when the obstacle is overthrown, it is found that its disappearance 
benefits all. Then the indefatigable proprietor attacks new obstacles, 
and continually raising the human level, he more and more realizes 
community, and with it equality in the midst of the great human 
family. " 

36. Duties concerning the property of others. — After 

having estabhshed the right of general property, we have to 
expound the duties relative to the property of others. 

The property of others may be injured in various ways, and 
in different cases. These cases are: 1, loans; 2, trusts; 3, 
things lost ; 4, sales ; 5, property strictly so-called. 

37. Loans. — Debts. — The inequality of riches is the cause 
that among men some have need of what others possess, and 
yet cannot procure by purchase, for want of means. In this 
case, the first turn to the second to obtain the temporary en- 
joyment of the thing they stand in need of ; this is called 
borrowing ; the reciprocal act, which consists in conceding for 
a time the desired object, is called loaning. He who borrows, 
and who by this very act engages himself to return the thing 
again, is called debtor (who owes), and he who loans is called 
creditor ; he has a credit on his debtor. 

Several questions spring from this, some very simple, others 
very delicate, and often debated. 

38. Rights and duties of the cpeditop.— IVIoney interest. — 
Usury. — -And first, is it a duty to loan to any that ask you 1 It 

* See in the Harmonies economiques viii., that ingenious and substantial theory 
which shows the growing progress of the community by reason of property. 



72 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

is evident that if it is a duty it can be only a duty of charity, or 
friendliness, but not of strict justice. One is no more obliged to 
loan to all than to give to all. The duty of loaning, like the 
duty of giving without discrimination, would be tantamount 
to the negation of property; for he who would open his 
money-chest to all unconditionally, however rich he might be, 
would in a fe^v days be absolutely despoiled. Besides, the 
same duty weighing equally on those who have received, 
they in their turn would be obliged to pass their goods over 
to others, and no one would ever be proprietor. In this case, 
it would even be better to hand all property over to the State, 
that it might establish a certain order and fixity in the repar- 
tition of it. 

It is this doctrine which a Father of the Church, Clement 
of Alexandria, has expressed in these terms in his treatise : 
Can any rich man he saved ? 

" What div^ision of property could there be among men if no one had 
anything ? If we cannot fulfil the duties of charity without any money, 
and if at the same time we were commanded to reject riches, would 
there not be contradiction ? Would it not be to say at the same time 
give and not give, feed and not feed, share and not share ? " 

It is therefore not a strict duty to loan to all ; it is a form 
of benevolence, and we must put off to another chapter (ch. 
vi.) the conditions and the degrees of this duty. 

But a question which necessarily presents itself here, is to 
know if, when one loans, it is a duty to deprive one's self of all 
remuneration ; or if it is, on the contrary, permitted to exact 
a price over and beyond the sum loaned. This is what is 
called money interest ; and when this interest is or appears 
excessive, it is called usury. This question, discussed during 
the whole middle ages, was, before its true principles were 
established, first resolved by practice and necessity. 

It is to-day evident to all sensible minds, that capital, like 
work, has a right to remuneration. Why ? Because without 
the expectation of this remuneration, the possessor of the 



DUTIES CONCERKING THE PROPERTY OF OTHERS. 73 

capital would forthwith consume it himself or allow it to 
waste away without use. This will be better understood in 
considering the two principal forms of remuneration for cap- 
ital : interest and rent. Interest and rent are both the pro- 
duct of a capital loaned, but with this difference, that rent 
is the product of a fixed capital (house, field, workshop) ; 
while interest is the product of a circulating capital (money 
or paper). 

The interest of capital represents two things : 1, the depri- 
vation of him who loans, and who might consume his capital ; 
2, the risk he incurs, for capital is never loaned except to be 
invested, and consequently it may be lost. These are the 
two fundamental reasons which establish the legitimacy of 
interest, despite the prejudices which have long condemned it 
as usury, and the Utopias which would establish the gratuity 
of credit."^ 

The principal reason against the legitimacy of interest is 
deduced from the sterility of money. " Interest," says Aris- 
totle, "is money bred from money ; and nothing is more con- 
trary to nature." But, as Bentham remarks {Defense of Usury, 
letter 10), "if it be true that a sum of money is of itself in- 
capable to breed, it is not the less true that with this same 
borrowed sum, a man can buy a ram and a sheep, which, at 
the end of a year, will have produced two or three lambs." 
In other terms, as Calvin says, " it is not from the money it- 
self that the benefit comes, it is from the use that is made 
of it." 

It has been said that he who loans does not deprive him- 
self of his money, since he can do without it. (Proudhon, 
Letters to Bastiat, 3d letter.) But he does deprive himself 
of it, since he might have consumed it himself. The proof 
that a loan is a privation, is the pain men have in economiz- 
ing and in investing their money. How many men are there 



* See especially about the question of interest, the controversy between Proudhon 
and Bastiat. (Works of Bastiat, vol. v., Gratuity of Credit.) 

4 



74 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 

who, in possession of a sum of one hundred francs, would not 
rather spend it than place it on interest ? 

As to what is called gratuitous credit, it could be possible 
only by being reciprocal. In fact, if I loan you my house, and 
you loan me in return your land, supposing they are of 
equal value, it is evident that, the one being worth as much 
as the other, and the two services equivalent, we need not 
pay each other anything ; for it would be only an exchange 
of money. But nothing can be inferred from this, touching 
the most usual case : namely, where the capital is loaned by 
the possessor to him who does not possess ; for then there is 
no reciprocity, consequently no gratuity. 

As to the rate of interest it varies like all values according 
to the law of supply and demand in the money market. (See 
the Cours d'Economie Politique.) The greater the supply of 
capital the less dear it is. It is, then, the increase of capital 
that is to diminish interest and bring about a sort of relative 
gratuity. Every enterprise against capital will produce a 
contrary result. 

As to the rent of capital, it has generally raised fewer 
objections than interest ; for it is easier to understand that if 
I give myself the trouble to build a house, it is that it will 
bring me in something; but it is, on the whole, the same 
thing, with this difference, that circulating capital, running 
more risks than fixed capital, seems to have a still better right 
to remuneration. 

The lender has then the right to exact a certain amount 
over and above the sum loaned. Certainly, he cannot exact 
it, as it often occurs among friends, and for very small sums. 
But as a principle, one is no more obliged to lend gratuitously, 
than to give to others gratuitously what they 'need. 

In admitting that the interest of money is a legitimate thing, 
is one obliged also to admit that the money-lender has a right 
to fix the rate of interest as high as he wishes ? Beyond a 
certain limit, will not the interest become what we call usury ? 

To which may be replied : 



DUTIES CON-CERis^II^G THE PROPEETY OF OTHERS. 75 

"1. If the one borrowing consents to pay the price, it is that this service 
done him does not appear to him too dear. One may borrow at 20 and 
even 30 per cent., if one foresees a gain of 40. 2. Why not look 
at the thing from the lender's standpoint ? If the return of the funds 
appears more or less doubtful, why should he not have the right to 
protect himself?" [Dictionary of Politics, by Maurice Block.) 

These arguments prove, in fact, that it is impossible to 
determine beforehand and absolutely the rate at which it 
may be permitted to lend, and there are many cases where a 
very high interest may be legitimate : for instance, in what 
is called hottomry-loan, which consists in advances made to 
shipping merchants on their ships; the law here sanctions 
very high interest, because of the exceptional risks this kind 
of enterprise runs. 

Does it, however, follow, as some economists seem to think, 
that there is no occasion to speak of usury, properly so called, 
that the term usurer is an insult, invented by ignorance, which 
has no real basis 1 This we cannot admit. Political economy 
and morality are two different things. 

Even if one should admit that there is no reason for legally 
fixing the rate of interest, because money is a merchandise like 
all others which should be left to free circulation, to the free 
appreciation of the parties, it would not follow that there 
could be no abuse made of the required interest. Experience 
proves the contrary. It is not so much the rate of the interest 
which constitutes the injustice thereof, as the reasons and 
circumstances of the loan. If, taking advantage of the pas- 
sions of youth, one loans to a prodigal, knowing him unable 
to refuse the conditions, because he only listens to pleasure ;• 
or if, seducing the ignorant, one dazzles him with magnificent 
bargains ; or, lastly, if profiting by the common desire among 
peasants to enlarge their grounds, we advance them money, 
knowing they cannot return it, and secure thereby the prop- 
erty they think they are buying, in all such cases, or similar 
ones, there is always usury, and morality must condemn such 
hateful practices. 



76 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

The hatefnlness of usury is brought into strong relief in 
Mohere's celebrated scene in The Miser (Act ii., Sc. i.) : 

La FLfecHE : Suppose that the lender sees all the securities, and 
that the borrower be of age and of a family of large property, sub- 
stantial, secure, clear and free from any incumbrances, there will then 
be drawn up a regular bond before a notary, as honest a man as may be 
found, who to this effect shall be chosen by the lender, to whom it is 
of particular importance that the bond be properly drawn up. 

Cleante : That's all right. 

La Fleche : The lender not to burden his conscience with, any scruples, 
means to give his money at the low rate of denier eighteen* (5, 9 per 
cent. ) only, 

Cleante : Denier eighteen ? Jolly ! That's honest indeed ! No 
fault to find there ! 

La Fleche : No. But as the said lender has not with him the sum 
in question, and, to oblige the borrower, he will himself be obliged to 
borrow from another at the rate of denier five (20 per cent), it will be 
but just that the abovesaid first borrower should pay that interest 
without prejudice to the other, for it is only to oblige him that the 
said lender resorts to this loan. 

Cleante : The devil ! "What a Jew ! What an Arab is that ! 
That would be at a greater rate than denier four (25 per cent. ). 

La FlJiche : That's so : it is just what I said. 

Cleante : Is there anything more ? 

La FLliCHE : But just a small item. Of the fifteen thousand francs 
that are asked, the lender can give in cash only twelve thousand, and 
for the thousand crowns remaining, it will be necessary that the bor- 
rower take the clothes, stock, jewelry, etc., of which here is the list. 

Cleante : The plague on him ! 

The next scene shows with remarkable energy the spend- 
thrift and the usurer in conflict with each other, f 

39. Duties of the debtor — After the duties of the lender 
and the creditor, let us point out those of the borrower or the 
debtor. The only duty for him here is to return what he 
has borrowed : it is the duty of paying one^s debts. 

For a long time, the duty of paying one's debts appeared to 
be one of those vulgar and commonplace duties intended for 

♦ Mode of reckoning in the time of Louis XIV. 

t The scene between father and son in The Miser (Sc. ii., Act iii.). 



DUTIES COXCERXIXG THE PROPERTY OF OTHERS. 77 

the generality of men, but from wliicli the great lords freed 
themselves easily. The poor creditors have been the laughing 
stock in comedies."^ But it is not doubted nowadays that to 
refuse to pay what one owes, is really taking from the prop- 
erty of others, and appropriating what does not belong to us. 

This duty, besides, is so simple and stringent that it is 
necessary only to mention it without further development. 
The same principles apply to the various ways in which one 
may make use of property, and particularly to the three kinds 
indicated in the Civil Code — the usufruct, the umge^ and the 
right of action. The common obligation in these three cases, 
mentioned by the Code, is to use the thing belonging to 
others as a prudent father would, which is to say, to use it as 
the proprietor himself would use it, without injuring the 
object, and even improving it as much as possible. It is 
especially in commerce that the act of paying one's debts, is 
not only more obligatory morally, but socially iftore necessary 
than anywhere else. The reason of it is that commerce is 
impossible without credit. By exacting of every merchant 
the payment of cash, the springs of exchange would dry up ; 
besides, most of the time it would be useless ; for in com- 
merce merchandise is constantly bought against merchandise. 
It would be loss of time, loss of writing, limitation of the 
market. In commerce one cannot say of him who owes that 
he is a borrower ; for the next day, according to the fluctua- 
tions of demand and supply, he may be the lender. But it is 
just because credit is indispensable in commerce, that the 
obligations of the debtors are in some respect more stringent ; 
for the greater the confidence, the more stringent the duty. 
So that commercial honor is like military honor — it does not 
admit of breaking promises. 

40. Failures and bankruptcies. — However strict one 
should be in commerce in regard to keeping promises, there is 
nevertheless in the Code cause for distinguishing two different 

* See, in Moliere's Don Juan, the charming scene between Don Juan and Mr. 
Dimauche. 



78 ELEMEN"TS OF MOKALS. 

cases of promise-breaking — failure and bankruptcy ; and in 
this second case, there is simple bankruptcy and fraudulent 
bankruptcy. 

Failure is purely and simply the suspension of payments 
resulting from circumstances independent of the will of him 
who fails. Bankruptcy, on the contrary, is suspension of pay- 
ments resulting either from imprudence or from mistakes of 
the bankrupt. 

Simple bankruptcy occurs in the following cases : 1. If the 
personal expenses of the merchant or the expenses of his 
house are judged excessive ; 2. If he has spent large sums of 
money in operations of pure chance either in fictitious opera- 
tions or extravagant purchases ; 3. If with the intention of 
putting off his failure, he has made purchases to sell again 
below par ; 4. If after cessation of payment, he has paid a 
creditor to the prejudice of all others. (Code of Commerce.) 

Bankruptcj** is called fraudulent, when the bankrupt has 
abstracted his books, misrepresented a portion of his assets, or 
declared himself debtor for sums he does not owe. 

It is useless to say that this third case is but another case 
of theft and deserves the severest denunciation. Simple 
bankruptcy is already very culpable ; and failure itself should 
be regarded by all merchants as a very great misfortune, which 
they must avoid at any cost. 

41. The commodate op gratuitous loan. — The gratuitous 
loan or commodate is a contract by which one of the parties 
gives to the other a thing to be made use of, on the condition 
that it be returned after having served its purpose. (Code 
Civ., Art. 1875.) 

As a fundamental principle, the receiver must return to the 
lender the very thing he has loaned him. But in case of loss 
or deterioration of the thing loaned, resulting from the use 
made of it, on whom is to fall the loss ? 

"It cannot be presumed, says Kant (Doctrine of the Law, French 
translation, p. 146), that the lender should take upon himself all 
the chances of loss or deterioration of the thing loaned ; for it 



IDUTIES CONCEBHIKG THE PROPEKTY OF OTHERS. 79 

stands to reason that the proprietor, besides granting to the borrower 
the use of the thing he loans him, would not agree to insure him also 
against all risks. If, for instance, during a shower, I enter a house, 
where I borrow a cloak, and this cloak gets to be forever spoiled 
from coloring matters thrown upon me by mischance, from a window, 
or if it be stolen from me in a house where I laid it down, it would be 
considered generally absurd, to say that I had nothing else to do than 
to send back the cloak, such as it is, or report the theft that has taken 
place. The case would be very different if, after having asked per- 
mission to use a thing, I should insure myseK against the loss in case it 
should suffer any damage at my hands, by begging not to be held respon- 
sible for it. No one would think this precaution superfluous and ridic- 
ulous, except perhaps the lender, supposing he was a rich and generous 
man ; for it would then be almost an offense not to expect from his 
generosity the remission of my debt." 



42. The trust. — Trust, in general, is an act by which 
one receives the thing of another on condition to keep it and 
restore it in kind. (Code Civ., Art. 1915.) 

He who deposits is called deponent (or bailor in England) ; 
he who receives the trust is called depositary (in England 
bailee). 

The obligations of the depositary are morally the same as 
those found in positive law. We have then nothing better 
to do here than to reproduce the precepts of the Code on this 
matter. 

1. The depositary, in keeping the thing deposited with 
him, must exercise the same care as with the things belonging 
to himself (Art. 1927). 

2. This obligation becomes still more stringent in the fol- 
lowing cases : {a), when the depositary offers himself to receive 
the thing in trust; {h), when he stipulates for a compensation 
for the keeping of the thing deposited ; (^), Avhen the trust is 
to the interest of the depositary ; (c?), when it has been ex- 
pressly agreed upon that the depositary be answerable for all 
kinds of mistakes (Art. 1928). 

3. The depositary cannot make use of the trust without the 
express or presumed consent of the deponent (Art 1929). — 



80 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

For example, if a library has been left in my trust, it may be 
presumed that the deponent would not object to my using it ; 
but if the trust consists in valuable jewelry, it can be only by 
the express wish of the deponent that I could wear it. The 
difference is simple and easily understood. 

4. The depositary should not seek to know what the things 
deposited with him are, if they have been left with him in a 
closed trunk or a sealed envelope (Art. 1931). 

5. The depositary must return the identical thing he has 
received. Thus the trust consisting in specie, must be returned 
in the same specie. 

The obligation to restore the thing deposited in kind, and 
such as it Avas when delivered, is evident, and constitutes the 
very essence of the trust. 

However, we should take into account the following cir- 
cumstances : 

1. The depositary is not held responsible in cases of insuper- 
able accidents (Art. 1929). 

2. The depositary is only held to return the things deposited 
with him, in the state wherein they are at the moment of 
restitution. Deteriorations, through no fault of his, are at the 
expense of the deponent (Art. 1935). 

Such are tlie obligations of the depositary ; as to those of 
the deponent, they resolve themselves into the following rule : 

The deponent is held to reimburse the depositary for any 
expense he may have incurred in the keeping of the trust, and 
to idemnify him for any loss the trust may have occasioned 
him (Art. 1947). 

43. Possession in good faith. — Possession in good faith is 
analogous to trust. In fact, he who possesses in good faith a 
thing that is not his, is in reality but a depositary, but he is 
so without knowing it. Hence analogies and differences 
between these two cases, which it is well to point out. 

The following arc some rules proposed on this subject by 
Orotius (T)e la paix et de la guerre, B. 11, ch. xii., §3) ; and 
Pullendorf (Droit de la Nature et des Gens, B. iv., ch. xiii., 



DUTIES CONCERKIKG THE PEOPERTY OF OTHERS. 81 

§ 12). But as these rules appeared excessive to other juris- 
consults, we give them here rather SiS problems than solutions: 

1. A possessor in good faith is not obhged to restore a thing 
which, against his wish, has come to be destroyed or lost, for 
his good faith stood to him in Heu of property. 

2. A possessor in good faith is held to return not only the 
thing itself, but also its fruits still existing in kind. 

3. A possessor in good faith is held to return the thing 
itself, and the value of the fruit thereof which he has con- 
sumed, if there is reason to believe that he would have other- 
wise consumed as many similar ones. 

4. A possessor in good faith is not held to return in kind 
the value of the fruit he has neglected to gather or to grow. 

5. If a possessor in good faith, having received the thing as 
a present, should afterwards give it to another, he is not 
obliged to return it, unless he would otherwise have given one 
of the same value. 

6. If a possessor in good faith, having acquired a thing by 
an onerous title, should afterwards dispose of it in some way 
or other, he need return but the gain it procured him. 

It is necessary to remark here that in this matter morality 
should be more severe than the strict law ; for if morality 
demands that a possessor be above all mindful of the rights 
of others, the law should also consider the rights of him who 
in good faith and ignorance enjoys what belongs to others. 
Hence, an essential difference betvv^een this case and that of 
the trust. 

44. Things lost. — The question of things lost is related to 
that of possession in good faith. If the thing lost should fall 
into my hands by a regular acquisition, by purchase, contract, 
etc. (as, for instance, buying' a horse in the market), it is evi- 
dent that this case comes under possession in good faith, and 
that it is the business of the law to decide between proprietor 
and possessor. But if I appropriate to myself the thing lost, 
knowing it to be lost, and consequently not mine, there is 
fraud and converting to my own use the property of others. 



82 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

Public opinion was for a long time indulgent towards this kind 
of appropriation. It seemed that luck gave a certain title to 
property. The difficulty, moreover, of finding the true owner, 
seemed to give to him who had found the object a certain right 
to it. But to-day society plays the part of intermediary, and 
assumes the duty of restoring the thing lost to its owner. It 
is, therefore, to the authorities the object must be returned.* 

For a long time a misjudgment of the same kind allowed 
wreckers a pretended right to the objects thrown on the strand 
by the tempest following a wreck. 

45. Sale.— Sale is a contract by which one of the parties 
engages to deliver a thing, and the other to pay for it (Civ. 
Code, Art. 1982). There are, then, two contracting parties — the 
seller and the buyer. They are subject to different obligations. 

Obligations of the seller.— The seller is held clearly to 
explain what he engages to do. An obscure and ambiguous 
agreement is interpreted against the seller (Civ. Code, Art. 
1602). Such is the general and fundamental obligation of 
a sale. It implies, moreover, two others, more particular : 
1, that of delivering ; 2, that of guaranteeing the thing sold. 

The first is very simple, and raises only questions of fact, 
as in regard to delays, expenses of removal, etc. ; it is the 
business of the law to regulate these details. 

The guaranty, in a moral point of view, is of greater 
importance. The two essential principles in this matter are 
expressed by the Code in the following terms : 

1. The seller is held to his guaranty in proportion to the 
concealed defects of the thing sold, rendering it improper for 
the use for which it was destined, or so diminishing this use, 
that the buyer would not have bought it, or would not have 
given so much for it, had he known of these defects. 

» " Things lost cannot give rise to an action for theft, when the finder, after 
liaving looked for their proprietor in vain, and only retained them when his 
researches proved fruitless, has ascertained that the proprietor will not present 
himself. i3ut if the thing has been taken with the intention of appropriating it, 
if it has an owner, although unknown, tliere is no doubt about the delinquency." 
(Faustin-ileli(;, Droit pi nal, iv. edit., Legon v., p. (30.) 



1 



DUTIES COKCERNIKG THE PROPEETY OF OTHERS. 83 

2. The seller is not held to the obvious defects which the 
buyer may have been able to see himself. 

It is to this question of guaranteeing the thing sold, that 
the conscience-case mentioned by Cicero, in his treatise on 
Duties, is applicable : 

An honest man puts up for sale a house, for defects only known to 
him ; this house is unhealthy and passes for healthy ; it is not known 
that there is not a room in it where there are no serpents ; the timber 
is bad and threatens ruin ; but the master alone knows it. I ask if 
the seUer who should not say anything about it to the buyers, and 
should get for it much more than he has a right to expect, would do a 
just or unjust thing. "Certainly he would do wrong," says Antipater ; 
"is it not, in fact, leading a man into error knowingly?" Diogenes, 
on the contrary, replies : ' ' Were you obliged to buy ? You were not 
even invited to do so. This man put up for sale a house that no longer 
suited him, and you bought it because it suited you. If any one should 
advertise : Fine country-house well huilt, he is not charged with deceit, 
even though it was neither the one nor the other. And whilst one is 
not responsible for what he says, you would make one responsible for 
what he does not say ! What would be more ridiculous than a seller 
Avho would make known the defects of the thing he puts up for sale ? 
What more absurd than a public crier who, by order of his master, 
shoulder}^: " Unhealthy house for sale ! " 

Despite Diogenes' railleries, Cicero decides in favor of 
Antipater and the more rigorous solution. The truly honest 
man, he says, is he Avho conceals nothing. 

If it is a fault not to reveal the defects of the thing sold, it 
is a still graver one, and one Avhich becomes a fraud, to ascribe 
to it qualities or advantages it has not. Cicero cites on this 
subject a charming and well-known anecdote. 

The Roman patrician, C. Canius, a man lacking neither in personal 
attractions nor learning, having gone to Syracuse, not on business, hut 
to do nothing,* as he expressed it, said everywhere that he wished to 
buy a pleasure-house, to which he might invite his friends, and amuse 
himself with them away from intruders. Upon this report, a certain 
Pythius, a Syracuse banker, came to tell him that he had a pleasure- 
house which was not for sale, but which he offered him and begged him 

* The play in Latin is on the words otiandi and negfo<ia«di.— Translator. 



84 SlLEMENTS OF MOEALg. 

to use as his own, inviting him at the same time to supper for the next 
day. Canius having accepted, Pythius, who in his quality of banker 
had much influence among people of all professions, assembled some 
fishermen, requesting them to go fishing the next day in front of his 
pleasure-house, giving them his orders. Canius did not fail to present 
himself at the supper hour. He found prepared a splendid banquet, 
and a multitude of boats before the grounds of his host. Each of the 
fishermen brought the fish he had caught, and threw them at Pythius' feet. 
Canius wondered : ' ' What means this, Pythius ? How ! so many fish 
here, and so many boats !" "Nothing to Avonder at," says Pythius ; 
' ' all the fish of Syracuse come up here. It is here the fishermen come 
for w^ater. They could not do without this house." Canius then 
becomes excited ; he presses, solicits Pythius to sell him the house. 
Pythius first holds back, but at last gives in. The Roman patrician 
gives him all he asks for it, and buys it all furnished. The contract is 
drawn up, and the bargain concluded. The next day, Canius invites 
his friends, and comes himself early in the morning ; but not a boat is 
in sight. He inquires of the first neighbor if it was a holiday with the 
fishermen, that he did not see any about. "Not that I know of," 
replied the neighbor ; ' ' but they never come this way, and I did not 
know, seeing them yesterday, what it all meant. " Canius was no less 
indignant than surprised. But what remedy ? Aquillius, my colleague 
and friend, had not yet established his formulas on fraudulent acts. * 

46. The price in selling. — If we adhere to the principles 
of political economy, the price in selling is entirely free : it 
depends exclusively upon the agreement between the vender 
and the buyer, and as it is said, on the relation between the 
supply and deuiand. Nothing more unjust than the inter- 
vention of the law in commercial relations. If the buyer 
buys at such or such a price, however high, it is that he still 
finds it to his interest to buy even at that rate. If the vender 
sells at such or such a price, however low, it is that he cannot 
get more, and that it suits him rather to sell at that price than 
keep the thing. 

It is then certain that the value of things being wholly 
relative, it is impossible to determine in an absolute manner 
what may l)e called the just price ; for that depends on 
the frequency and rarity of the thing, on the market, on 

* De Officiis, Book III., ch. xiv. 



DUTIES CONCEEKIKG THE PROPERTY OF OTHERS. 85 

the wishes of the buyer, and the thousand continually vary- 
ing circumstances. In short, the sale taking place when one 
wishing to sell and one wishing to buy, meet each other, it 
seems that their accord is a proof that the two interested 
parties have come to an understanding. There would, accord- 
ing to that, never be any unjust sale or purchase. We must 
consequently consider the definition of commerce given by the 
socialist, Cli. Fourier : " Commerce is the art of buying for 
three cents what is worth six, and selling for six what is worth 
three," not only as satirical and hyperbolical, but also as 
unjust and anti-scientific ; for we cannot say whether a thing 
is in itself absolutely Avorth six cents or three cents. 

Does it follow, however, that there can never be any injus- 
tice in sale or purchase 1 If there is no absolute price, there 
is a medium price resulting from the state of the market. 
ISTow, the buyer may not know this medium price ; and it is 
an injustice on the part of the seller to take advantage of this 
ignorance to sell above that. The same in the case of the 
vender's not knowing the price of the thing he has for sale, 
which the buyer appropriates, paying for it below its real value. 

Besides, whilst admitting that the prices are free, and that 
the law cannot intervene between vender and buyer, it is, 
however, necessary to admit that there is a certain moderation 
beyond which injustice begins, if not in a legal, at least in a 
moral point of view. But it is for particular circumstances 
to determine this limit ; and there is no general rule for it. 
It is a case where not strict justice, but equity is just. 

47. Violation of the property of others. — Theft. — In 
general, every kind of violation of property under one form 
or another, is called theft, and this action is condemned by 
morality. It is expressed by that ancient commandment : 
Thou shall not steal. 

The following are the various definitions of theft given by 
the jurists : " By theft is meant every illegal usurpation of 
the property of others." * — " By theft is meant every fraudulent 

* Definition of the canon law. 



86 ELEMENTS OE MORALS. 

carrying off for gain a thing belonging to others.""^ Finally 
our Code declares that, " whosoever has fraudulently carried 
off anything that does not belong to him, is guilty of theft." 
(Penal Code, Art. 379.) 

It takes, then, three elements to constitute theft: 1, carry- 
ing off ; 2, fraud ; 3, the thing of another. 

Two kinds of theft are distinguished : the dmj^le thefts and 
the qualified thefts. 

The first are those in which are met the three preceding 
elements, but without any further aggravating circumstance. 
The second (qualified thefts) are those which to the three pre- 
ceding elements add some aggravating circumstances. These 
circumstances are : 1, the quality of the agents (servants, inn- 
keepers, drivers or boatmen). 

It is clear that this is an aggravating circumstance by reason 
of the facility given by the more intimate relations in which 
they stand with the injured persons, and the greater confidence 
these are obliged to grant them. 

2. Tiw£s and places. — For example, thefts committed by 
night are more grave than those committed by day, because 
it is more difficult to anticipate them, to catch their per- 
petrators, and because they place the injured person in greater 
danger. The places that aggravate theft are: 1, the fields ; 

2, inhabited houses; 3, edifices consecrated to divine wor- 
ship; 4, highways, etc. It is easy to understand why these 
different places aggravate the crime by rendering it more easy. 

3. Circumstances of execution, as for example : 1, theft 
committed by several persons ; 2, theft by breaking open ; 

3, theft with an armed hand, etc. 

In a word, theft becomes greater in proportion to the diffi- 
culty of forestalling it, and its menacing character. 

One particular form of theft is swindling. Swindling is a 
sort of theft, since it is a fraudulent appropriation of the 
thing of another. But it is characterized by the fact that it 
does not take place through violence, but through cunning, 

* Digest, II., § 3, I>e Fwrtxs. 



DUTIES CON"CERN"IKG THE PEOPERTY OF OTHERS. 87 

and in deceiving the victim by fraudulent maneuvers ; for in- 
stance, in making him beheve in the existence of false enter- 
prises, in an imaginary power or credit, in calling forth the 
hope and fear of a chimerical event, etc. 

Emhezzlement is a sort of swindling, with this difference, 
that " if the criminal has betrayed the confidence which has 
been placed in him, he has not solicited this confidence by 
criminal maneuvers." Among these may be classed : 1, taking 
improper advantage of the wants of a minor ; 2, misuse of 
letters of confidence ; 3, embezzlement of trusts ; 4, the ab- 
straction of documents produced in court. 

We have to point out still* several other kinds of theft : for 
example, theft at gamhling or cheating ; theft of public moneys 
or peculation,^ etc. 

In one word, under whatever form it may be concealed, 
misappropriation of another's goods is always a theft. In 
popular opinion it often seems, as if theft reaUy takes place 
only when the criminal takes violent possession of another's 
property. Yery often a few false appearances suffice to con- 
ceal to the eyes of easy consciences the hatefulness and 
shamefulness of fraudulent spoliations. One who would 
scruple to take a piece of money from the purse of another, 
may have no scruple in deceiving stockholders with fictitious 
advertisements, and appropriate capital by fraudulent man- 
euvers. Theft thus committed on a large scale is still more 
cidpable, perhaps, than the act of him who, through want, 
ignorance, hereditary vices, never knew of any other means 
of hving than by theft. 

48. Restitution. — He who has taken possession of any- 
thing that belongs to another, or retains it for any cause, is 
held to restitution as a reparation of his fault. This restitu- 
tion must be made as soon as possible ; otherwise it is neces- 
sary to obtain an extension of time from the injured person. 
If the thing has been lost, restitution should no less be made 
under some form of compensation. Eestitution is independent 
of the penalty attached to the damage and fault, 



88 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

49. Promises and contracts. — AVe have seen above that 
it is an absolute obligation for man to use language only so as 
to express the truth. Hence every word given becomes 
essentially obligatory. But it is as yet only a duty of the 
man towards himself. We have to see wherein and how the 
word given may become a duty towards others. This is the 
case with. 2^romises and contracts. 

Promises. — A promise is the act whereby one gives his 
word to another either to give him something or do something 
for him. 

According to jurists, a promise is obligatory only when 
accepted by him to whom it is nj^de. 

Pollicitation {^rormsQ) says Pothier, * produces no obligation properly 
so called, and he who has made such a promise may, as long as that 
promise has not been accepted by him to Avhom it was made, revoke it ; 
for there can be no obligation without a right acquired by the person 
to whom it has been made and against the one under obligation. Now, 
as I cannot of my own free will, transfer to any one a right over my 
property, if his own will does not concur with mine in accepting it ; so 
I cannot, by my promise, grant any one a right over my person, until 
that one's will concurs with mine in acquiring it by the acceptance of 
my promise. 

It may be true that in strict law, and from the standpoint of 
positive law, the promise may be obligatory only and capable 
of enforcement when it has been accepted, and accepted in an 
obvious and open way ; but in natural law and in morality, the 
promise is obligatory in itself. Of course, it is understood that 
the promise bears on something advantageous to him to whom 
we make it ; for if I promise some one a thrashing, it cannot be 
maintained that I am obliged to give it to him ; and if he to 
whom I make the promise will not receive what I offer, I am 
by that very fact relieved from my promise ; for one cannot give 
anything to another against his will; I am under no obligati(m 
to liim who will not receive anything from me. But if the 
promise bears on something advantageous to any one, I am 
obliged to keep it without asking myself whether he to whom 

♦ Traiti des obligations, Part I., ch. i., f 2, 



DUTIES COXCERXIXG THE PROPERTY OF OTHERS. 89 

I made it, is disposed to accept it ; presuming still that lie 
will accept it. It is therefore not the explicit acceptance of a 
thing that renders the promise obhgatory ; it is the explicit 
refusal which rehcves one of the promise ; and together with 
that it woidd be necessary that the refusal be absolute and 
not contingent ; for even then the promise may remain obliga- 
tory, at least in its general principles, while undergoing some 
modification in the execution. 

Is one obhged to keep his promise Avhen the fultillment of 
it is injurious to those to whom it was made ] " Xo," says 
Cicero ; for example : 

Sol had promised Pliaethon, his son, to fulfil all his wishes. Phae- 
thon wished to get on the chariot of his father ; he got his wish, but at 
the same instant he was struck with lightning. It would have been 
better for him had his father not kept his promise. May we not say 
the same of the one Theseus claimed of Xeptune ? This god having 
made him the promise to grant him three wishes, Theseus wished for 
the death of his son Hippolytus, whom he suspected of criminal love. * 
How bitter the teal's he shed when his wish was accomplished ! "What 
shall we say of Agamemnon ? He had made a vow to immolate the 
most beautiful object in his kingdom ; this was Iphigenia ; and he un- 
molated her : this cruel action was worse than perjury. 

The truth of tliis doctrine cannot be contested. However, 
it is necessary to understand this exception in the strictest 
sense, and not to seek in the pretended interest of the person 
one obliges, a pretext to change one's mind. For example, 
if you have promised any one a post which he accepts and 
desires, you cannot be allowed to relieve yourself of it, by 
supposing that the post Avill in reality be a disadvantage to 
him, and that you will give him a better one another time. 

Some other exceptions are pointed out by the moralists and 
jurists ; for example : 

1. Necessity relieves of aU promise. If, for example, I 
have promised to go to a meeting and am kept in bed by a 
serious illness, it is impossible for me to go, and hence I am 
reUeved of my promise. 

* See Racine's tragedy of Phedre, 



90 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. 

2. One is not obliged to perform illicit acts : " for," says 
Pufifendorf, " it would be a contradiction, to be held by civil 
or moral law, to perform tilings wliicli the civil or moral law 
interdicts. It is already doing wrong to promise illicit things, 
and it is doing wrong twice to perform them." * 

3. One cannot promise what belongs to another : for I can- 
not promise what I cannot dispose of. 

50. Contracts. — A contract is an agreement by which one 
or several persons engage to do or not to do a certain thing 
for one or several others. (Code Civ., Art. 1101.) 

Conditions of the contract (Art. 1108). — Four conditions 
are necessary to constitute a valid and legitimate agreement : 

1. The consent of the parties. 

2. The capacity of the contractors. 

3. A sure object as a basis for the contract. 

4. A licit cause in the obligation. 

(1). The consent. — The consent is the voluntary acceptance 
of the charges implied in the contract. It is express or im- 
pjlied : express, when it is made manifest by words, writing, or 
any other kind of expressive signs. It is implied, when, 
without being expressed by outward signs, it may be deduced, 
as a manifest consequence of the very nature of the thing, 
and other circumstances. 

All consent presupposes, 1, the use of reason: the insane 
cannot contract any obligation ; children neither ; f 2, neces- 
sary knowledge. Therefore all real consent excludes error, 
at least " when it falls on the very substance of the thing 
which is its object." | It is, besides, for the jurists to 
define with precision what is to be understood by error in 
matter of contract ; 3, the liberty of the contracting parties : 

* Puffendorf, Of the Duties of Man and the Citizen, ii., c. ix., § 18. 

t In the United States cliildren can, in the case of neglect by their parents, njake 
contracts which are obligatory for whatever is necessary for them. 

X Our Code does not admit that a mistake touching the person, vitiates the con- 
sent of the contractors, unless this consideration be the principal cause of the agree- 
ment. 



DUTIES COXCEEKIIn'G THE PROPERTY OF OTHERS. 91 

whence it follows that consent extorted by constraint and 
violence is not valid. 

(2.) The capacity to make a contract is deduced from the 
foregoing principles. All those who are not supposed to be 
able to give an intelligent and free consent, are incapable and 
cannot make contracts : for instance, persons under age, per- 
sons interdicted, insane or idiots, etc. 

(3.) The matter of a contract. — "All contract has for its 
object something that a certain party engages to give, or do or 
not do." It is evident that a contract without subject-matter 
and bearing on nothing, is void, and does not exist. 

(4.) The cause of the contract must be real and legal. 
Contracts are subject here to the same rules as are promises. 

The preceding distinctions are all borrowed from the civil 
law ; but they express no less principles of justice and equity 
which may be resolved into the following rules : 

1. Xo one shoidd take by surprise or extort a consent 
through artifice or violence. 

2. Ko one should make a contract with one whom he knows 
to be incapable of understanding the value of the engage- 
ment he is called upon to make : for example, with one under 
age, incapable before the law, but of whom it is known that 
the parents will pay the debts ; or with one feeble-minded, 
though not yet an interdicted person, etc. 

3. No one should contract a fictitious engagement bearing 
on matters non-existing, or such as have only an imaginary or 
illegal cause. 

Interpretation of contracts. — Jurists give the following rules 
regarding the interpretation of obscure clauses in contracts. 
The rules which are to guide the judge in regard to the law 
are the same as those which are to enlighten the consciences 
of the interested parties : 

"1. One should, in agreements, find out the mutual inten- 
tion of the contracting parties, rather than stop at the literal 
sense of the words." (Art. 1156.) 

" 2. When a clause is susceptible of a double meaning, one 



92 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 

should understand it in the sense in which it may have some 
effect, rather than in the one in which it would not have 
any." (Art. 1157.) 

" 4. That which is ambiguous is to be interpreted by what 
is customary in the country where the contract is made."' 
(Art. 1159.) 

" 5. One should supply in a contract its customary clauses, 
though they be not therein expressed." (Art. 1160.) 

" 6. All the clauses of agreements are to be interpreted by 
one another, giving each the sense which results from the en- 
tire document." (Art. 1161.) 

" 7. If doubtful, the agreement is to be interpreted against 
the stipulator, and in favor of him who contracted the obliga- 
tion." (Art. 1162.) 



CHAPTER Y. 

DUTIES TOWARDS THE LIBERTY AND TOWAPDS THE 
HONOR OF OTHERS. — JUSTICE, DISTEIBUTIVE AND RE- 
MUNERATIVE; EQUITY. 



SUMMARY. 

Liberty in general.— Natural rights. 

Slavery. —Arguments of J. J. Rousseau against slavery, servitude; op- 
pression of work under diveis forms. 

The honor of others.— Backbiting and slander. 

Rash judgments. — Analysis of a treatise of Nicole. — Envy; rUncor ; 
delation. 

Justice, distributive and remunerative. — To each according to his 
merits and his works. Equity. 

After self-preservation, the most sacred prerogative of man 
is liberty — that is to say, the right of using his faculties, both 
physical and moral, without injury to others, at his own risks 
and perils, and on his own responsibility. 

51. Liberty— Natural rights. — The word liberty sums up 
all that is understood by the natural rights of man, namely, 
the right to go and come, or individual liberty ; the right to 
use his physical faculties to supply his wants, or liberty of 
work; the right to exercise his intelligence and reason, or 
liberty of thought ; the right to honor God according to his 
lights, or liberty of conscience ; the right to have a family, a 
wife and children, or the family right, and finally the right 
to keep what he has acquired, or the right of property. 

52. Slavery. — The privation of all these rights, of all 
these liberties in an individual, is called slavery. Slavery is 
the suppression of the human personality. It consists in 



94 ELEMEIS^TS OF MORALS. 

transforming man into a thing. It takes away from him the 
right of property and makes of himself a property. The slave 
is bought and sold as a thing. The fruits of his labor do not 
belong to him ; he cannot come and go at will ; he can neither 
think nor believe freely ; in some countries he is interdicted 
the right of instructing liimself ; he has no family, or has one 
temporarily only, since his wife or children may be separately 
sold ; and since the women belong to their masters as their 
property, there is no bridle against the license of passions. 

Although slavery is at the present day well-nigh abolished 
in the world, still as it is not yet wholly so, and as this abo- 
lition is quite recent, and tends constantly to be renewed 
under one form or another, it is important to sum up the 
principal reasons that show the immorality and iniquity of 
this institution. 

53. Refutation of slavery — Opinion of J. J. Rousseau. 
— J. J. Rousseau, in his Contrat Social (I., iv.), combated 
slavery with as much profundity as eloquence. Let us sum 
up his arguments with a few citations : 

1. Slavery cannot arise from a contract between the master 
and the slave ; for to consent to slavery is to renounce one's 
manhood, of which no one can dispose at his will. 

To renounce one's liberty is to renounce one's manhood, and the rights 
of humanity, even one's duties. There is no reparation possible for him 
that renounces everything. Such a renunciation is incompatible with 
the nature of man, and is depriving his actions of all morality, and his 
will of all liberty. 

2, Such a contract is contradictory, for the slave giving 
himself wholly and without reserve, can receive nothing in 
return. 

It is a vain and contradictory agreement to stipulate an absolute au- 
thority on one side, and on the other unlimited obedience. Is it not 
clear that one can be under no obligation towards him of whom one has 
a right to demand everything ? and does not this single condition, with- 
out e<iuivalent, without exchange, carry with it the nullity of the act? 
For what right could my slave have against me, since all he has belongs 



DUTIES TOWARDS THE LIBERTY OF OTHERS. 95 

to me, and that his right being my own, this my right against myself 
is a word without any sense. 

3. Even if one had the right to sell one's self, one has not 
the right to sell one's childien. Slavery at least should not 
be hereditary. 

Admitting that one could alienate himself, he could not alienate his 
children ; they are born men and free ; their liberty is their own ; no 
one has a right to dispose of it but themselves. 

Before they have reached the age of reason, their father may, in their 
name, stipulate conditions for their welfare, but not give them irrev- 
ocably and uncondirionally over to another ; for such a gift is contrary 
to the ends of natui'e, and passes the rights of paternity. 

■4. Slavery, furthermore, comes not from the right of killing 
in war : for this right does not exist. 

The conqueror, according to Grorius, having the right to kill the 
conquered enemy, the latter may ransom his life at the expense of his 
liberty : an agreement all the more legitimate, as it turns to the profit 
of both. 

But it is clear that this pretended right to kill the conquered adver- 
sary does not result in any way from the state of war. . . . One has a 
right to kill the defenders of the enemy's State as long as they hold to 
their arms ; but when they lay these down and surrender, and cease to 
be enemies, they become simply men again, and one has no longer a 
right on their life. 

If war does not give the conqueror the right of massacring the con- 
quered, it does not give him the right of reducing them to slavery. . . . 
The right of making of the enemy a slave, does not then follow the 
right of killing him ; it is then an iniquitous exchange to make him 
buy his life at the price of his liberty, over which one has no right 
whatsoever. 

^lontesqiiieu has also combated slavery ; but he has done 
it under a form of irony, which gives still greater force to his 
eloc[uence. 

" If I had to defend the right we have had to make slaves 
of the negroes, this is what I shoidd say : 

"Tlie peoples of Europe having exterminated those of 



96 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

America, they were obliged to reduce to slavery those of 
Africa in order to use them to clear the lands. 

" Sugar would be too dear if the plant that produces it 
were not cultivated by slaves. 

" The people in question are black from head to foot, and 
they have so flat a nose that it is almost impossible to pity 
them. 

" One cannot conceive that God, who is a being most wise, 
could have put a soul, and above all a good soul, in so black 
a body. 

"It is impossible for us to suppose that these people are 
men ; because if we supposed them to be men, one might 
begin to think we are not Christians ourselves. 

" Narrow minds exaggerate too much the injustice done to 
Africans. For if it were as they say, would it not have come 
to the minds of the princes of Europe, who make so many 
useless contracts among each other, to make a general one in 
favor of mercy and of pity?"* 

54. Servitude — Restrictions of the liberty to work — 
Oppression of children under age, etc.— Absolute slavery 
existed in antiquity, and has particularly reappeared since 
the discovery of America, owing to the difference of the races : 
the black race being, seemingly, particularly adapted to the 
cultivation of the torrid zones, and endowed with great phys- 
ical vitality, became the serving-race par excellence: it has 
even been hunted down for purposes of procreation ; hence 
that infamous traffic, called slave trade, and which is to-day 
interdicted by all civilized countries. 

But there existed in the Middle Ages, and has subsisted 
even to these days, in Eussia, for example, a relative slavery, 
less rigorous and odious, but which, though circumscribed 
within certain limits, was not the less a grave outrage to 
liberty. The serf was allowed a family, and even a certain 

* Esprit des Lois, XV., iv. The stipulations which Montesquieu demanded have 
1>een made, and liave led to the suppression, or at least to a great diminution, of the 
slav«-trad». 



DUTIES TOWARDS THE LIBERTY OF OTHERS. 97 

amount of money ; but the ground which he cultivated could 
never belong to him ; and above all he could not leave this 
ground, nor make of his work and services the use he wished. 
It was certainly less of an injustice than slavery ; but it was 
still an injustice. However, this injustice exists to-day no 
longer than as an historical memory. Morality has no longer 
anything to do with it. 

It is the same with the restrictions formerly imposed on 
the freedom of work under the old administration (rtncien 
regime), the organization of maitrises and jurandes,'^ namely, 
and that of corporations ; the work was under regulations : 
each trade had its corporation, which no one could enter or 
leave without permission. No one was allowed to encroach 
upon his neighbor's trade ; the barbers defended themselves 
against the wig-makers ; the bakers against the pastry-cooks ; 
hence much that was wrong, and which those who regret' this 
administration have forgotten. 

But here again, it is the object of history to inquire into 
the good or the evil of these institutions ; and these questions 
belong rather to political economy than to morals. 

It is not the same regarding the abuse made of the work of 
children and minors, or the work of women. Severe laws 
have forbidden such ; but it is always to be feared that man- 
ners get the better of the laws. The work of children and 
women being naturally cheaper than the work of men and 
adults, one is tempted to make use of it ; but the work of 
children is improper because it is taking advantage of and 
using up beforehand a constitution not yet established, and 
also because it is thus depriving cliildren of the means of 
being educated. As to girls and women, in abusing their 
strength, one compromises their health, and contributes thereby 
to the impoverishment of the race. 



* By maUrise was understood the rank or degree of master ; and jurancles was the 
name of an annual office by means of which the affairs of the corporation were 
administered : it also meant the assembly of workmen, who had lent the customary 
oath. 

5 



98 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

Among the violations tlie liberty of work may suffer, we 
must not forget the threats and violences exercised by the 
workers themselves and inflicted upon eacli other. It is not 
rare, in fact, in times of strikes, to see the workmen who do 
not work try to impose, by main force, their will on those 
that are at work. Such violences, which have their source in 
false ideas of brotherhood (a mistaken esjprit de corps), and in 
a false sense of honor, constitute, nevertheless, even when 
free from the coarse enmity of laziness and vice, waging war 
with work and honesty — a grave violation of liberty ; and it 
may be considered a sort of slavery and servitude to suffer 
them. 

It is the same with the attempts by which men try to for- 
bid to women factory Avork, under pretext that it brings the 
wages down. 

Tliis reason, in the first place, is a bad one, because the wo- 
man's earnings come in the end all back to the family, increas- 
ing by that much more the share of each. But by what right 
should work be prohibited to woman more than to man ? Cer- 
tainly it would be desirable if the woman could stay at home, 
and busy herself exclusively with the cares of the household ; 
but in the present state of things such an ideal is not possible. 
It is then necessary that w^oman, Avho has, like man, her 
rights as a moral personality, should be allowed by her every- 
day work to make a living, under the protection of the laws, 
and at her own risks and perils. 

55. Moral oppression — Inward liberty and responsi- 
bility. — The question is not only one of corporal liberty, the 
liberty to work ; the laws in a certain measure provide for 
that, and one can appeal to their authority for self-protection. 
But there may exist a sort of moral bondage, which consists in 
the subordination of one will to another. It is here that 
the respect we owe to others calls for a more delicate and a 
more strict sense of justice : for this sort of slavery is not so 
obvious, and the love we bear to others may be the very thing 
to lead us into error. 



DUTIES TOWARDS THE LIBERTY OF OTHERS. 99 

56. Violation of the honor of others — Backbiting and 
slander. — Among the first rights of a man, there is one 
sometimes forgotten, although it is one of the most essential, 
and this is his right to honor. 

In our ignorance of most men's acmons, and in all cases of 
the real motives of these actions, it is a duty for us to 
respect in others what we wish they should respect in us : 
namely, our honor and our respectability. In fact, it is very 
difficult for men to form true judgments regarding each other. 
For fear of committing an injustice, it is better not to judge 
at all than to judge wrongly. 

There are two ways of violating other people's honor : hack- 
hiting and slander. Backbiting consists in saying evil of 
others, either deservedly or undeservedly ; but when unde- 
servedly, and especially when one knows it to be so, backbiting 
becomes slander. Backbiting may arise from ill-will or 
thoughtlessness, and slander is the work of baseness and perfidy. 

Backbiting which consists in saying evil of others de- 
servedly, is not in itself an injustice : there is to be 
recognized the right and jurisdiction of public opinion. 
The honest man should be held in greater esteem than 
the rogue, even though the latter cannot be reached by 
the law. IsTevertheless, backbiting becomes an injustice 
through the abuse that is made of it. It is not a question 
of severe judgments touching actions deserving blame 
and contempt. It is a question of thoughtless and unkind 
judgments, and which we are all too easily and readily inclined 
to pronounce upon others, forgetting that we deserve ourselves 
as many and severer ones. How shall we conciliate, however, 
the just severity which vice deserves, with the spirit of kind- 
ness which charity and brotherly love demand of us? On the 
one hand, an excess of kindness seems to weaken the horror 
of evil, to put on the same level the honest man and the 
rogue ; on the other, the habit of speaking evil weakens the 
bonds of human society, sets men against each other, and is 
always, in a certain measure, a shortcoming of sincerity ; for 



100 ELEMENTS OP MORALS. 

one hardly ever tells to people's faces the evil one says of 
them in their absence. It is not easy to find the just medium 
between these two extremes. 

It may be laid down as a princ^'ple that, except the casfe 
where notorious vices, contrary to honor, comes into question, it 
is better absolutely to abstain from speaking evil of others. 
For, either the question is of persons one does not know, or 
knows imperfectly, and then one is never surenot to be mistaken ; 
and most of the time one judges people on the testimony of 
others only, or one speaks of persons whom one knows, and 
with whom one stands in more or less friendly relations ; and 
then backbiting becomes a sort of treason. Even deserved 
blame should not be a favorite subject of conversation : it is 
an unwholesome and ungenerous pleasure to lay any stress 
upon the weakness of others. If, at least, one accepted with 
it the right of others to judge us with the same severity, such 
reciprocal liberty might prove of some utility; but the back 
biter nowise admits that he may be himself the subject of 
backl)iting ; and at the very moment when he criticises others, 
he would himself be very much offended if he learned that 
the same persons had, on their side, been doing the same in 
regard to him. 

As to slander, it is not necessary to say much on the subject 
to show to what degree it is cowardly and criminal. What 
makes it, above all, cowardly is that it is always very difficult 
to combat and refute slander. Often, and for a long time, it is 
not known : at the moment when one hears of it, it has taken 
roots which nothing can destroy. One does not know who 
spread it, nor whom to answer. It is, besides, often impossible 
to prove a negative thing : namely, that one has done no harm, 
that one has not committed such and such an action, and said 
such or such a word. One always confronts the well-accredited 
saying : " There is no smoke without fire." 

The wrong done by slander will be better understood by 
the description Beaumarchais has given of it : 

" Slander, sir — you hardly know how great a thing you hold in con- 



DUTIES TOWARDS THE LIBERTY OF OTHERS. 101 

tempt : I have seen the best of people crushed by it. Believe me, there 
is no flat malice, no hateful story, no absurd tale Avhich a skillful 
mischief-maker cannot make the idlers of a large town believe. ... At 
first, a slight report, just grazing the ground as a swallow does before 
the storm : murmuring 23ianissivio, and spinning away, it launches in 
its course the poisoned arrow. A certain ear is open to take it in, and 
it is deftly whispered piano, piano, to the next. The harm is done ; it 
sprouts, crawls, makes its way ; and rinforzando from mouth to mouth, 
goes like wildfire ; then all at once, you scarcely know how, you see 
the slander rise before you, whistling, blowing, growing while you look 
at it. It starts, takes its flight, whirls about, envelops, pulls, carries 
everything along with it, bursts and thunders, and becomes a general 
cry, a public crescendo, a universal chorus of hatred and proscription. '''' 

57. Rash judgments. — We call rash judgments ill-natured 
remarks made about others without sufficient knowledge of 
facts. It is through rash judgments one becomes often the 
accomplice of slander, without knowing it and without wishing 
it. Mcole, in his Essais de Morale, has thoroughly treated 
the question of rash judgments. We have but to give here 
a short resume of his Treatise on this subject. 

1. Eash judgments are a usurpation of God's judgment. 

Rash judgments being always accompanied by ignorance and want 
of knowledge, are a manifest injustice and a presumptuous usurpation 
of God's authority. 

2. This sin has degrees according to the quality of its 
object, the causes from which it springs, and the effects it pro- 
duces. 

The quality of the object increases it or diminishes it, because the 
more things are important the more is one obliged to be circumspect 
and reserved in the judgments one pronounces, t » 

The causes may be very different : 

One falls into it sometimes simply from over-hastiness. Sometimes 

* Beaumarchais, Barbier de Seville. 

t Nicole does not give any examples ; but it is evident, for instance, that it is a 
graver fault to rashly incriminate the integrity of a functionary than his incapacity, 
the chastity of a woman than her economy. 



102 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

we are led into it through the presumptuous attachment we have for 
our sentiments. But the most ordinary source of this ignorance is the 
maliciousness which causes us to see stains and defects in persons which 
a single eye would never discover in them. ... It causes us to feel 
strongly the least conjectures, and enlarges in our eyes the slightest 
appearances. We believe them guilty because we should be very glad 
if tliey were. 

The conseqitences of rasli judgments are sometimes terrible 
and fatal. 

The divisions and hatreds which disturb human society and extin- 
guish charity come generally only from a few indiscreet words that es- 
cape us. Moreover, we do not always confine ourselves to simple judg- 
ments. We pass from the thoughts of the mind to the promptings of 
the heart. We conceive aversion and contempt for those we have 
thoughtlessly condemned, and we inspire the same sentiments in 
others. 

Rash judgments are the source of what'we call prejudices ; or, rather, 
prejudices are but rash judgments fixed and permanent. . . . We 
portray human beings to ourselves from the inconsiderate remarks made 
about them before us, and we then adjust all their other actions to the 
ideas we have formed of them. It serves us as a key whereby to explain 
the conduct of these persons, and as a rule for our conduct towards 
them. 

.3. We are apt to delude ourselves as to the Uiotives of the 
judgments we pronounce. 

The manner in wlii(;li we conceal from ourselves this defect is very 
delicate and very difficult to avoid. For it comes from tlie bad use we 
make of a maxim very true in itself when viewed generally, but which 
in private we imperceptibly pervert. This maxim is, that whilst it is 
forbidden to judge, it is not forbidden to see- -that is to say, to give one's 
self up to convincing evidence. Thus, in making our judgments pass 
for views or evidences, we shield them from all that can be said against 
the rashness of our judgments. 

To enable us to distrust this pretended evidence, it would only be 
necessary to call our attention upon those whom we think guilty of rasli 
judgments in regard to us. Tliey think as we do, that the rashest of 
their judgments are from observation evidently true. Who, then, will 
assure- us that it is diflcrent with us, and that we are the only ones free 
from this illusion '( 



DUTIES TOWARDS THE LIBERTY OF OTHERS. 103 

4. It is inaintamed that one cannot help seeing the faults 
of others : so be it ; but one need not make it voluntarily an 
object. 

It may be said that we cannot help but see. But that is not true. 
It is rare that our mind is so violently struck that it cannot help de- 
ciding. It is generally obliged to make an effort to look at things, and 
it is this voluntary looking at the faults of others which Christian pru- 
dence should correct in the ]>ersons whose function it is not to correct 
them. 

5. Besides, even if we knew the evil for certain, it is not 
for us to make it known to others. 

Whatever evidence we may think we bave of the faults of our neigh- 
bor, Christian prudence forbids us to make these known to others when 
it is not incumbent on us or useful so to do. . , . This exercise 
does not only sei-ve in regulating our s|)eech and forestalling the conse- 
quences of rash judgments, but it is also of infinite service in regulating 
the mind and con-ecting the rashness of judgment at its very source ; 
for one hardly ever allows one's mind to judge the faults of others, ex- 
cept to speak about them, and if one did not speak of them, one would 
insensibly stop trying to judge them. 

6. But as it is not always possible to avoid judging, it be- 
comes necessary to employ other remedies against the abuse 
of rash judgments. 

(a.) "The remedy for malignity is to fiU one's heart with charity ; 
to think often about the virtues and good quaUties of others. 

(6.) "The remedy against haste is to accustom one's self to judge 
slowly and to take more tune in looking at things. 

(c.) "The remedy against the too ■strong attachment to our own sen- 
timents is to continually remember the weakness of our minds and the 
frequent mistakes we, as well as others, make." 

Xicole goes so far in proscribing rash judgments, that he 
even forbids them recrardimj the dead (xxxv.), reinirdincr our- 
selves (xxx^-i.), even when they have good rather than evil 
for their object (xxxvii.), even regarding abstract maxims of 
morality (xli.) : and he concludes by saying that the only 
reasonable method is silence ! We recognize here the rig- 



104 ELEMEITTS OF MORALS. 

orism of the Jansenists.* It suffices to say that, as a general 
principle, one should neither judge nor pronounce without in- 
vestigation ; but one must allow a little more latitude and 
liberty than does Nicole ; for if all men agreed to keep silent, 
human society would be nothing but a semblance, a word void 
of sense. How could men get to love each other if they did 
not know each other 1 And how could they know each other 
if they did not talk to each other ? We must, therefore, ad- 
here to certain general principles without pretending to bring 
all words and thoughts under regulations. 

58. Of envy and delation. — Among the vices which may 
lead to the greatest injustices, and which already in them- 
selves are odious as sentiments, the most blameworthy and 
the vilest is the passion of envy. We call envious him who 
suffers from the happiness of others, him who hates others 
because of the advantages they possess and the superiority 
they enjoy. In the first place, this sentiment is an injustice ; 
for the happiness of one is not the cause of another's misfor- 
tune ; the health of one does not make the other sick ; Vol- 
taire's wit is not the cause of the mediocrity of our own 
talents ; beautiful women are not answerable for the ugliness 
of other women. Let the ill-favored one accuse nature or 
Providence, and there will be some reason in it, though it is 
a bad feeling ; for it is a want of resignation to a wisdom the 
motives of which we cannot always divine ; but to accuse 
the favored of fortune, is a shocking baseness of the heart. 
It is the hateful feature of a celebrated sect of these present 
days ; they desire not the happiness of all, but the misfortune 
of all. Unable to procure the same advantages to all men, 
their ideal is general destruction. Their utopia is just the 
reverse of all other Utopias. These believed they could se- 
cure to all the advantages reserved to a few. This new utopia, 
persuaded of the impossibiHty of tlie tiling, liave overthrown 
the problem and propose to reduce the more fortunate to the 

♦ Nicole belonged to the sect of the Jaiiscnists, celebrated for the harshness and 
rigidity of their morality. 



DUTIES TOWARDS THE LIBERTY OF OTHERS. 105 

wretchedness of the less happy ; and as among the number of 
heads they hit there are still some which retain a few advan- 
tages over the others, the work of destruction will go on till 
they shall have reached the level of universal degradation. 

But, without speaking of the social envy, which has had so 
large a share in the revolutions of our time, what we ought 
above all to fight against is the individual envy whicli each 
of us has so much trouble in defending liimsolf against in 
presence of the success of his neighbor. It is above all dan- 
gerous when disputed goods are in question — things all can- 
not have at the same time — and which he who is in the en- 
joyment of them seems thereby to rob the others of : as, for 
instance, a situation one obtains at the expense of another, be 
it that he is more deserving of it, or more favored by fortune. 
In the first case, one should be just enough to recognize the 
rights of others to these tilings, and in the second, generous 
enough to forgive them the favors of chance. It is wanting 
in personal dignity to begrudge men their chances and good 
fortune ; and even were these chances undeserved, it is still 
lowering one's self to do them the honor of envying them. 

Envy comes close to another sentiment, less odious perhaps, 
and less unjust, but whicli is, nevertheless, unworthy of a 
right-feeling man ; this is reb-ejitme?it, rancor, a vindictive spirit. 
If we are commanded to return good for good, we are, on the 
other hand, forbidden to return evil for evil. For centuries 
it has been said : Eye for eye and tooth for tooth. This 
is called retaliation (lex talionis). Christian morality has 
reformed this law of barbarous times. "It is written : eye 
for eye, tooth for tooth ; but I say unto you : Eove those who 
hate you ; pray for those who persecute you and speak evil of 
you." Without insisting here on the love for enemies (which 
is a duty of charity and not of justice), we will simply say 
that the spirit of vengeance is even contrary to justice. Nature, 
when we have been offended, calls forth in our hearts a spon- 
taneous emotion, which inspires in us an aversion for the 
cause of the offense. This is a mere revolt of nature, inno- 



106 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

cent in itself, since it is the principle of the right of self- 
defense. But we should not yield to this thoughtless impulse ; 
we should combat the desire to return evil for evil ; for other- 
wise we place ourselves on a level with him whom we hate. 
And here again we should distinguish between anger and 
rancor. Anger is the immediate impression we receive from 
the \vrong committed, and which may induce us to return evil 
for evil on the spot ; but rancor is hatred coldly kept up ; it 
is the slow and calculated preparation for a revenge ; it is the 
remembrance of wrong carefully nursed : and it is this which 
is contrary to human dignity. Man should remember good, 
not evil : he who is capable of hatred is worthy of hatred, and 
would seem to have beforehand deserved the wrong he has 
been made to suffer. We do not go so far as to say that 
wrong must be pardoned as wrong, for that would be siding 
with injustice ; but it should be pardoned to human nature, 
because it is weak, and we are no less liable to sin than 
others. 

From these feelings of hatred, envy, rancor, coveteousness, 
springs sometimes a vice which lowers the soul and corrupts 
it : this is delation. To report to one the wrong done by 
another ; to superiors the wrongs done by our colleagues ; to 
friends the evil said of them in their absence ; to inform the 
authorities of the presence and lodgings of an outlaw, such 
are the faults designated by the term delation, and the essen- 
tial characteristics of which are, that they are committed with- 
out the knowledge of the interested parties. It is evident, 
besides, that this term can nowise be applied to functionaries 
commissioned to watch and discover faults, or to those 
who complain of injustice done them, and finally where 
great crimes committed against society are in question, to 
those who, knowing the criminals, report them to the author- 
ities. 

59. Distributive and remunerating justice Equity.— 
All the acts wc have thus far enumerated, and whicli consist 




DUTIES TOWAEPS THE LIBEETY OF OTHEES. 10? 

in doing no wrong to others, relate to what may be called 
negative justice.* 

There is another kind of justice, more positive, which con- 
sists, like charity, in doing good to others, not in the sense of 
liberality and a gift, but as a debt ; only the Cjuestion then is 
not a material debt, which obliges to return a thing loaned, or 
intrusted, or the venal value of that thing ; but it is a moral 
debt in proportion to the merit and services it relates to. 
This kind of justice, which distributes goods, advantages, 
praises in proportion to certain efforts, capacities, virtues, is 
what is called distrihutive justice, and, inasmuch as it rewards 
services, remunerating. 

Distributive justice goes into effect every time when 
there is occasion to classify men, to distribute among them 
offices, ranks, honors, degrees, etc. It is that which especially 
administrators who distribute places, have to exercise ; also, 
examiners who give diplomas, learned societies who grant 
prizes, or take in new members ; finally, critical judges who 
appreciate the merit of books, works of art, dramatic pro- 
ductions. 

The administrators who have to fill posts, must above all 
consider the interests of the situation wliich is to be filled. 
Favoritism should be strictly excluded : the misuse of testi- 
monials ha5 been often pointed out ; it is the plague of our 
administrations. They have not always all the influence 
attributed to them ; but it is enough that it is thought they 
have any, to give rise to bad habits and a very serious laxity 
of morals. They make you believe that success does not 
whoUy depend on conscientious work, and that it requires, 
above all, the favor of the great (protections). It is, there- 



* It is also called commutative justice, some-what improperly, in taking for its 
t>"i)e the act of exchange, where one gives the equivalent of what he receives ; but 
this expression is only truly correct when it touches upon property, and particularly 
upon sale, trus4» loan. But the term commutative has no longer much meaning 
when applied to the respect due to the life, the liberty, or the honor of others. 
Nevertheless, it is necessarj" to be familiar vrith the expression, as it is usually 
opposed to distributive justice. 



108 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

fore, the duty of administrators to consider the merit of func- 
tionaries only, and not their patrons. 

But even this rule is far from being sufficient : for personal 
merit is not everything ; is not the only element to be con- 
sidered ; age, length of service, have also their value ; for, in 
order that the State be well served, it is necessary that those 
who work for it, shoidd have faith in the future ; should 
know that their past services will be taken account of, that as 
they grow older and their burdens heavier, the State will 
come to their assistance in raising their functions. Thus must 
length of service be combined with merit and be itself a part 
of the merit. In many administrations, the division between 
these two elements is made by granting vacant posts half to 
length of service, half to choice. But the choice itself depends 
on various elements ; for personal merit is itself composed of 
many elements : for example, which should be considered the 
higher, talent or work ? A lively mind will accomplish more 
work in less time ; but it may be negligent, forgetful, disor- 
derly : a substantial mind, always ready, industrious, consci- 
entious, offers better guarantees and more security ; yet in 
difficult transactions, talent offei^ more resources. This shows 
how many practical difficulties have to be met in the choice of 
men. It is for experience and conscience to decide in each 
particular case. Morality can give no general rules, except 
negative rules : to avoid ne2X)tisrn, simany* guard against the 
arbitrary, against favor, testimonials, etc. 

In examinations there are the same dangers to avoid : 
for here, also, it is unfortunately too much a general belief 
that favoritism is the nde, and that testimonials go for 
everything. The first duty is to set aside all personal interest, 
worldly influence, pressure from without. But all does not 

* Nepotism is the custom of advancing to desirable posts the members of one's 
family ; simomj (which has especially to do with the Church) consisto<l in the pur- 
chase of the ecclesiastical functions : the term may also, by extension, be applied 
to lay functions. 



DITIES TOWARDS THE LIBERTY OF OTHERS. 109 

end here ; for there remains to be seen what rule is to be 
followed in the choice of candidates. 

If the number of those who are to be elected is fixed before- 
hand, as in contests, there is then already a great difficulty ob- 
viated : for there is but to be determined the order of merit of 
the candidates. But in many examinations the number is 
not fixed. It becomes then necessary to find a just medium 
between excess of severity and excess of indulgence. This 
medium is generally determined through the co-operation of 
different minds, of which some are inclined to severity and 
others to indulgence. But one must not trust to this co- 
operation of others to arrive at a strict justice. It is clear 
that each, for his own part, must fix upon a mean, and 
endeavor to adhere to it as strictly as possible. In cases 
where there is occasion for classification, one must, above all, 
consider the more substantial qualities, and not allow one's self 
to be too easily led away by mere appearances and surface- 
talent. ^ 

Thus, facility of speech, wliich in itself is a merit, should 
not have any advantage over soimd learning, especially in 
regard to functions where speech-making plays no part. 
Presence of mind, ready wit, are also brilliant and precious 
qualities, but the absence of which does not always denote 
ignorance and incapacity. 

In learned or political societies, which are recruited among 
themselves, the same principles of independence and impar- 
tiality should always predominate, except in cases of difference 
in circumstances. Talent is here the principal tiling to go by, 
and which should prevail ; length of service counts for nothing 
except where the merit is equal. The interest of science in 
learned societies, the interest of the State in political societies, 
should be the prime considerations. 

Literary or artistic criticism comes under the same rules, 
only it has not for its object persons, but works. Here the 
danger to be feared is not exactly favor, but good fellowship: 
one upholds the other, the praise is mutual, and all severity 



110 ELEMEN^TS OF MOKALS. 

is reserved for those who do not belong to the society. But, 
whether good fellowship or favor, all privilege-preference 
substituted for the esteem the thing should be held in for its 
own sake, is contrary to justice. Criticism may, of course, be 
more or less severe — more or less laudatory ; there is as much 
impropriety in constant blame as in constant praise; one 
must strike as near as possible a just mean between the two, 
and this mean may not be the same with the different critics ; 
here comes in the part which individual temperament plays in 
the matter. But whatever rule each may adopt for himself, 
they must all apply it to the same end : there must be no 
undue respect for the person, and the interest of art must 
be alone considered. 



CHAPTER YI. 

DCJTIES OF CHARITY AKD SELF-SACEIFICE. 



SUMMARY. 

A retrospect of what distinguishes justice and charity. 

Duties of kindness.— The lowest degree of charity is kindness: to 
wish others well leads to doing them good. 

Civility.— Perso?iaZ civility; civility of the mind ; civility of the heart. 

Modesty. — Modesty is as much a duty to others as to ourselves. 

Peace among men.— Analysis of Nicole's dissertation on the means of 
2Jrese/-ving peace among men. — Citations from Kant on society virtues. 

Duties of friendship. — Citations from Aristotle and Kant. 

Duties of benevolence. — Duties minima -. services which cost noth- 
ing. — Hospitality with the ancients. 

Good deeds. — Analysis of Seneca. 

Duties of benefactors. — 1, The benefaction consists rather in the 
sentiment than in the thing given ; 2, one should not trouble one's self 
if the benefaction results in ingratitude ; 3, degrees in benefactions : 
the necessary, the useful, the agreeable ; 4, the manner of giving is 
often better than the gift itself ; 5, one should not reproach bene- 
factions ; 6, benefaction consists sometimes in refusing ; 7, benefac- 
tion should be disinterested. 

Duties of the person under obligation : — 1, Not to be too greedy ; 
2, a kindness should be accepted cheerfully ; 3, one should remember 
a kindness. 

Kant's rules regarding benevolence and gratitude. 

Precautions required by benevolence : Cicero's rules. 

Self-sacrifice. — Different forms of self-sacrifice : The life, the prop- 
erty, the morality of others, etc. ; clemency ; forgiveness of injuries ; 
love of enemies. 

AVe have said that charity consists, above all, in doing good 
to men, Avhilst justice consists in doing tliom no wrong. It is 



112 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

true, there is a positive justice, as there is a negative justice ; 
and this positive justice consists also in doing good to men, 
but it is a good wliich is due them, which belongs to them by 
right, and which is itself an acknowledgment of that due and 
that right. 

The good done to others in the exercise of the duties of 
charity is, on the contrary, something we take from our own ; 
it is a gift; whilst the good done in the name of justice, is 
always a debt. 

The lowest degree of the duty of charity consists in what 
are called duties of kindliness. 

60. Duties of kindliness. — The first step to arrive at 
doing good to men, is to wish them well. Kindliness is the 
road tf) henevolence. 

Kindliness is that disposition which induces us to give 
others pleasure ; to rejoice over their good fortune, to make 
them happy themselves, if not by our own kindnesses, if that 
is not in our power, at least by outward demonstrations of 
sympathy and affection. 

61. Civility. — The lowest degree of this virtue, consists in 
using gentle and amiable manners in our intercourse with 
others, in not repelling them by a gruff and unsociable disposi- 
tion ; in wounding no one's feelings by the affectation of con- 
tempt and raillery, etc. This kind of surface-virtue, which is 
confined to the outward, is what is called civility. 

Civilit}'' is the ensemble of the forms usage has established 
to regulate the habitual and daily relations of men with each 
other. It corresponds in society to the ceremonial of diplo- 
matic life. To avoid the clashes which the rivalries of courts 
and powers would necessarily carry with them, a code of agree- 
ments was established which fix with precision the relations 
of the diplomatic agents. The same in social life. Civility 
is composed not of absolute and wholly material rules, but 
of forms fixed in a general M^ay, yet more or less free in 
their application, and all the more pleasing as they are the 
more free. These forms, often laughed at when regarded 



DUTIES OF CHARITY AXD SELF-SACEIFICE. 113 

superficiaUy, have a serious value when we consider that they 
express the general duty whereby peace is established and 
maintained among men. (See I^Ticole, Essais de morale^''' 
1671.) 

There is, then, in civility a principle which is essential and 
a form which is arhitrarij. Usage has everywhere established 
the form of bowing, for instance ; everywhere there are con- 
ventional expressions wherewith to greet people according to 
their age, their sex ; but these outward manifestations vary 
according to times and countries. 

A distinction has been made between personal civility and 
the civility of the mind and Tteart. Civility properly so 
called is that of the outward manners ; but it is worth very 
little if it is not sustained by the delicacy which says nothing 
wounding and the true kindliness which seeks to give pleasure : 
tliis is what is called civility of the mind and heart. 

' ' The most amiable natural gifts, and the talents made most supple 
by education, change into defects and vices if they are not inspired by 
a feeling of kindness. Suppleness, then, is nothing else than perfidy ; 
delicacy nothing else but cunning ; this civility lavished upon every- 
body is nothing else than duplicity . . . It is not enough to be a man 
of the world ; one must also be a man of heart . . . True civility is that 
which has its source in justice, in the respect for liumanit}' ; it is a 
form of charity ; it is the luxury of virtue. " t 

62. Modesty. — One of the most essential parts of kindness 
is modesty. Modesty is certainly a duty we owe to ourselves ; 
but it is also a duty we owe to others. Xothing more fatigu- 
ing than people who bring every tiling back to themselves, 
and can speak of nothing but themselves. It is not by ap- 
pearing satisfied with your own accomplishments, but in 
having others satisfied with them, that you wdl please ; and 
they will never find you more charming than when, completely 
forgetting yourself, you will be only occupied with them. To 

* We give on the nest page an analysis of this Essay. 

t Jouffret, Dc la politesse (A Lecture at the distribution of prizes at the Tournon 
Lyceum, Toumon. 1S80). 



114 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

succeed in making them satisfied Avitli themselves, is the true 
means of having them satisfied with you. 

Among remarl^able instances of modesty often cited, are 
those of Turenne and Catinat. The latter having sent in a 
report of the battle of Marsaglia, had so totally forgotten to 
mention himself that some one ingenuously asked : " Was the 
marshal present 1 " 

62 (bis). Peace among men. — " You have but a day to 
spend on earth," says Lamennais ; " try to spend it in peace."* 

Nicole has written an excellent treatise on the means of 
preserving peace among men {Essais de morale, 1671). Let 
us give a resume of it. 

Two causes, according to Mcole, produce disunion among 
men : either in wounding their feelings we cause them to 
Avithdraw from us, or, in being ivounded ourselves, we with- 
draw from them." 

Consequently, " the only means of avoiding such divisions 
is not to wound the feelings of others, and not to feel one's self 
wounded by them." 

1. If we look into the causes which generally give offense, 
we shall see that they may be reduced to two, which are : "to 
contradict people in their opinions, and to oppose their pas- 
sions." 

"1. Opinicms. — Men are naturally attached to their opinions, be- 
cause they desire to rule over others : now wc rule through the trust 
that is placed in us ; it is a sort of empire to have one's opinions received 
by others. 

"For this reason, when one seeks to combat the opinions of a man, 
one does him in some sort injury. It cannot be done without giving 
him to understand that he is mistaken ; and he does not take pleasure 
in being mistaken. He who contradicts another on some point, pretends 
to more knowledge than has lie Avhoni he wishes to persuade ; he thus 
presents to him two disagreeable ideas at the same time : one, that he 
is deficient in knowledge, and the other that he who corrects him sur- 
passes him in intelligence, " 

One should, therefore, spare people in their opinions ; but 

* Lamennais, Paroles d'wi Croyant, xv. 



DUTIES OF cnAraxY an:d self-sacrifice. 115 

among these opinions there are some which must be treated 
with more regard than others : 

" They are those advanced by no one particular person of the place 
where one may live, but which are established by universal approbation : 
in running against such opinions, one appears wishing to rise above all 
the rest." 

Xot that one should always scruple in conversation to show 
that one does not approve some opinions : that would be 
destroying society, instead of preserving it. . . . 

"But it is a thing worth pointing out how one may express his sen- 
timents so gently and agreeably that they give no offense. . . . For 
very often it is not so much our sentiments that shock others, as the 
proud, presumptuous, passionate, disdainful, insulting manner in which 
we express them." 

There are, then, several mistakes to be avoided : 

(a) The first is assumed siqjeriority, that is to say an imperious man- 
ner in the expression of one's sentiments, and which most persons resent, 
as much because it shows a proud and haughty soul, as because it indi- 
cates a domineering spiiit tyrannizing over minds. 

(&) The second is the decided and dogmatic manner in which an 
opinion is given ; as if it could not be reasonably contradicted. 

(c) Vehemence does not belong to the mistakes we have just spoken 
of. It consists in conveying the impression that one is not only 
attached to one's sentiments from conviction, but also passionately, 
which furnishes many people a reason for suspecting the truth of those 
sentiments, thus inspiring in them a wholly contrary feeling. 

(<^) The contempt and insults Mdiich enter into disjjutes, are so obvi- 
ously shocking, that it is not necessary to warn against them ; but it 
may be well to remark that there are certain rudenesses and incivilities 
nearly akin to contempt, although they spring from another source. 
Change of opinion is in itself such a hard thing, and so conti'ary to 
n.ature, that we must not add to it other difficulties. 

(c) Finally, hardness, which does not so much consist in the hardness 
of the terms employed as in the absence of certain softening words, also 
often shocks those thus addressed, because it implies a sort of indiffer- 
ence and contempt. 

2. Passions. — It is not enough to avoid contradicting peo- 
ple's opinions, or to do so cautiously only ; one must also 



116 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

spare their inclinations and their passions, because otherwise, 
it is impossible to avoid complaints, murmurs, and quarrels. 

These inclinations are of three kinds : which may be called 
just, indifferent, and unjust. 

(a) One should never really satisfy the unjust ones ; but it is not 
always necessary to oppose them ; for it is wounding others to make 
one's self conspicuous without particular reason. . . . One must always 
make amends for good and evil. . . . especially when there are others 
who could do it with better results than we. 

Besides, * ' this same rule obliges us to choose the least offensive, the 
gentlest, the least irritating means. " 

(b) I call indifferent passions those the objects of which are not bad 
in themselves, although they may be sought after with a vicious adhe- 
sion, Now, in this sort of things Ave are at greater liberty to yield 
to the inclinations of others : 1, because we are not their judges ; 2, 
because we do not know whether these affections are not necessary to 
them (leading them away from still more dangerous objects) ; 3, because 
these sorts of affections must be destroyed with prudence and circum- 
spection ; 4, because there is reason to fear we might do them more 
harm in indirectly opposing their innocent passions, than we should do 
them good in warning them against them. 

(c) I call just passions, those in which we are obliged to follow others 
by reason of some duty, although they might perhaps not be justified 
in requiring of us such deference. 

The peace of society resting thus on reciprocal esteem and 
love, it is just that men should wish to be esteemed and loved, 
and should demand outward signs of esteem and love. Upon 
this rest the rules of civility established among men, and of 
which we have spoken above. 

II. It is not enough to avoid wounding men's feelings, one 
should, moreover, not allow one's self to feel wounded by them, 
when they themselves fail to treat us as we ought to treat 
them. 

For it is impossible to practice inward peace, if wc are so sensitive to 
all that may be done and said contrary to our inclinations and senti- 
ments ; and it is even difficult to prevent the inner dissatisfaction from 
showing itself outwardly, and inducing us to treat those who have 
allocked us in a manner calculated to shock them in their turn. 



DUTIES OF CHARITY AKD SELF-SACEIFICE. 117 

It is, then, necessary to avoid complaining of others, when 
one has been offended by them. In fact : 

. . . Let us complain of others as much as we please, Ave shall gen- 
erally only embitter them the more, without correcting them. We shall 
be accounted sensitive, proud, haughty . . and if those we complain of 
have any sort ot skill, they will give such an aspect to things tliat the 
blame will fall back upon us. 

We must then endeavor to establish our peace and quiet on our own 
reformation and on the moderation of our passions. We cannot dispose 
of the minds or the tongues of others. ... we are enjoined to work on 
ourselves and to correct our own faults. 

There is nothing more useful than to suppress one's complaining and 
resentment. It is the surest way to appease differences at their birth 
and prevent their increase ; it is a charity we practice towards ourselves 
by procuring to ourselves the good of patience . . . it is a charity we 
do to others in bearing with their foibles, in sparing them the little 
shame they have deserved, and the new faults they might commit in 
justifying themselves. 

But it is not possible for us to observe outwardly such discretion, if 
we allow our resentment to work inwardly in all its force and violence. 
The outward complaints come from the inward, and it is very difficult 
to hold them back, if one's mind is full of them ; they always escape 
and break through some opening or other. . . . We must, therefore, 
also quench the complaints which the soul engenders. 

Among the subjects of complaint which other men give us, 
and which should be treated with contempt, Nicole points out 
particularly : 

"False judgments, slander, rudeness, negligence, reserve, or w-ant 
of confidence, ingratitude, disagreeable tempers, etc." 

Let us merely repeat what he says of the unfavorable judg- 
ments of others regarding us : 

"There is a ridiculous oddity in this spite which we feel when we 
hear of the unfavorable judgments and remarks made about us ; for one 
must have very little knowledge of the world to suppose it generally 
possible that they would not be made. Princes are talked against in their 
ante-chambers ; their servants mimic them. There is nothing so com- 
mon as to speak of the defects of one's friends and pride one's self in 
pointing them frankly out to others. There are even occasions when 



118 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

this may be done innocently, ... It is, therefore, ridiculous to ex- 
pect being spared. . . . for there is no time when we may not 
be generally sure either that people talk or have talked^ about us 
othervvise than we should wish. . . . We show annoyance at these 
judgments when they are expressly reported to us. . . . yet the re- 
port itself adds next to nothing to the matter, for before it was made 
we ought to have been almost sure that we and our faults were unpleas- 
antly commented on. . . . If this resentment were just, one would 
then have to be always angry, or never so, because it is unjust. But to 
keep very quiet, as we do, though we should know that there are people 
laughing at us, and to be disturbed and upset when we are told what 
we already knew, is a ridiculous foible." 

63. Social virtues — Kant's advice. — Kant has also 
treated the duties of kindness towards men, under the title of 
Social Virtues.'^ 

'* It is a duty to one's self as well as to others to carry the commerce 
of life to the highest degree of moral perfection ; not to isolate one's 
self ; not only to have the happiness of the world in view ideally, but 
to cultivate the means which indirectly lead to it ; urbanity in social 
relations, gentleness, reciprocal love and respect, affability and pro- 
priety, thus adding the graces to virtue, for this also is a duty of 
virtue. 

' ' These, it is true, are but external and accessory works, presenting a 
fine appearance of virtue, which, however, deceives no one, because every 
one knows how much to think of it. It is but a sort of small coin ; but 
the effort we are obliged to make to bring this appearance as near to the 
truth as possible, helps the sentiment of virtue greatly along. An easy 
access, an amiable mode of speech, politeness, hospitality, that gentle- 
ness in controversy which keeps off all quarrel — all these forms of socia- 
bility are external obligations which put also the others under obliga- 
tion, and which favor the sentiment of virtue in rendering it at least 
amiable. 

" Here arises the question to know whether one can keep up friendly 
relations with the vicious. f One cannot avoid meeting them ; for one 
would have to quit the world, and we are not ourselves competent judges 
in respect to them. But when vice becomes a scandal — that is to say, a 
public example of contempt of the strict laws of duty, thus carrying 
with it opprobrium — then one should stop all relations one may have had 

* Kant, Doctrine de la vertu, trad. Barni, p. IGO. 

t It is the question debated between Alceste and riiilinte in tlic first scene of the 
Misanthrope, 



DUTIES OF CHARITY AKD SELF-SACEIFICE. 119 

heretofore with the guilty person ; for the continuation of this relation 
wouhl deprive virtue of honor, and make of it a merchandise for the use 
of whoever were rich enough to corrupt parasites through the pleasures 
of good living." 

64. Duties of friendship. — Besides the general duties of 
every kind which link us with all men, for the only reason 
that they are men, there are particular duties imposed on us 
toward those of our fellow-beings, to whom we are united by 
the bonds of friendship. 

The duties of friendship have been admirably known and 
described by the ancients. We could not, therefore, treat 
this subject better here than by briefly recalling some few 
passages from Aristotle or Cicero. 

According to Aristotle, there are three kinds of friendship : 
the friendship of pleasure, the friendship of interest, and the 
friendship of viHue. The latter is the only true one. 

' ' There are three kinds of friendship. . . . The people who love 
each other from interested motives, for the use they are to each other, 
love each other, not for their own sakes, but only inasmuch as they 
get any good or profit from their mutual relations. It is the same with 
those who only love each other for pleasure's sake. AMien one loves 
from motives of pleasure only, one really seeks nothing else but this 
same pleasure. Such friendships are only indirect and accidental. 
They are very easily broken, because these pretended friends do not 
long remain the same. 

' ' Utility, interest, have nothing fixed ; they vary from one moment to 
another. The motive which originated the friendship disappearing, the 
friendship disappears as rapidly with it. 

" The perfect friendship is that of virtuous people, and who resemble 
each other in their virtue ; for these wish each other well, inasmuch as 
they are good ; and I add that they are good in themselves. Those 
Avho wish their friends well from such a noble motive are the friends 
par excellence. Hence it is that the friendship of such generous hearts 
lasts as long as they remain good and virtuous themselves ; now virtue 
is a substantial and durable thing. Each of the two friends is in the 
first place good in himself, and he is, moreover, good to all his friends, 
for good people are iiseful to each other, and also mutually agreeable to 
each other. Such a friendship unites, then, all the conditions. There 
is nothing more lovely. It is quite natural, however, that such friend- 



120 ELEME]!5^TS OF MORALS. 

ships are very rare, because there are very few people of such a dispo- 
sition. It requires, moreover, time and habit. The proverb is true 
which says that people can hardly know each other well, * before having 
eaten together bushels of salt. ' In the. same way persons cannot be 
friends before having shown themselves worthy of affection, before re- 
ciprocal confidence is established." (Nicomachean Ethics, liv. viii., 
ch. vii.) 

Friendship, according to Aristotle, consists in loving rather 
than in being loved. 

"Friendship, besides, consists much rather in loving than in being 
loved. The proof of it is the pleasure mothers experience in lavishing 
their love ... To love is, then, the great virtue of friends ; it is thus 
that the most unequal of people may be friends ; their mutual esteem 
renders them equals." (Ch. viii.) 

Friendship gives rise to a number of delicate problems : 
they may be found discussed in great detail in Cicero's 
Treatise on Friendship. 

65. Kant's precepts touching friendship. — Among the 
moderns, Kant is the only moral philosopher who has given 
friendship a place in practical morality. He has found new 
and delicate traits to add to the rules of the ancients. He 
insists above all on what he calls " the difficulties of friend- 
ship," and above all on the difficulty of conciliating "love and 
respect." 

'* To look at the moral aspect of the thing," he says, " it is certainly 
a duty to call a friend's attention to the mistakes he may commit ; for 
it is done for his good, and is consequently a duty of love. But the 
friend, thus admonished, sees in the thing but a lack of esteem he had 
not expected, and thinks he has lost something in your mind ; or, see- 
ing himself thus observed and criticised, may at least be in constant 
fear of losing your esteem. Besides, the fact alone of being observed 
and censured, will already appear to him an offensive thing in itself. 

" How much in adversity do we not wish for a friend, especially an 
effective friend, one finding in his own resources abundant means for 
helping us ? Yet is it a very heavy burden to feel one's self responsible 
for the fortunes of another, and called to provide for his necessities . . . 
Then if the one receives a kindness from the other, perliaps there may 
be yet reason to hope for perfect equality in love ; but he could no 



DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACRIFICE. 121 

longer expect perfect equality in respect ; for being under obligation to 
one he cannot oblige in his turn, he feels himself manifestly one degree 
his inferior. . . . Friendship is something so tender that if one does not 
subject this reciprocal abandonment and interchange of thoughts to 
principles, to fixed rules, which prevent too great a familiarity and 
limit reciprocal love by the requirements of respect, it Avill see itself 
every instant threatened by some interruption. ... In any case affec- 
tion in friendship should not be a passion ; for passion is blind in its 
choice, and evaporates with time. * 

66. Duties of benevolence. -Duties minima. — From 
Tiindness we pass to benevolence. The one resides in senti- 
ment, the other in acts : the first consists in wishing well, the 
second in doing good. 

The least degree of benevolence consists in rendering to 
others those smaller services which cost us nothing, and which 
are helpful to them. It is what Puffendorf calls the duties 
minima of benevolence, f 

Cicero, in his Treatise on duties (I., xvi.), gives several 
examples of this kind : 

'■'■ To show the way to him Avho asks for it ; to forbid no one the use 
of running water ; to give fire to him who has need of it ; to give ad- 
vice in good faith to him who is in doubt." 

Plutarch, in the same sense, says that the Romans never 
extinguished their lamps after their meals, and always left 
something on the table to accustom the servants of the house 
to the duties of humanity. By the law of Moses, the owner 
of a field was obliged always to leave some corner uncut and 
not glean the ears that had escaped the reapers. Finally, 
a Greek poet, Phocylides, expressed in the following lines this 
minimum of benevolence which every one can exercise : 

" Give shelter to those Avho have none ; lead the blind ; be merciful 
to those who have suffered shipwreck ; extend a helping hand to the 
fallen ; assist those that have no one to help them out of danger." 

Among these primitive duties, which cost him that fulKlls 

* Kant, Doc. dc la vcrtu, trad, de Barni, p. 155. 

t See Puffendorf, Droits de la nature et des gens, III., ch. iiL 

6 



122 ELEMENTS OF 3I0RALS. 

them but little, the ancients put in the first rank liospitality. 
It is in fact a virtue of primitive times which exists especially 
among barbarous and savage peoples. In the poems of Homer 
we see to what degree the guest was held sacred ; it is still so 
among the Arabs and the Indians of America. This virtue, 
on the contrary, seems to have disappeared with civilization. 
The reason of it is that among barbarous populations, where 
security is feeble, it was the pomt of honor which guaranteed 
the security of strangers. But as civilization becomes more 
complicated, as traveling increases, and security becomes 
greater, mercenary hospitality takes the place of free and 
private hospitality. I^evertheless, there can always remain 
some occasion for this primitive virtue in places isolated and 
separated from the great centres : this, for example, can still 
be seen in our days in the great wastes of America and Aus- 
tralia. 

67. Benefactions — Duties of the benefactor.— The fore- 
going actions, however praiseworthy they may be, are too 
simple and too easy to be presented as real acts of benevolence. 
Tliis term is reserved for the more difficult actions, which may 
cost us some real sacrifices more or less great, and which, more- 
over, are important services. These are what are called bene- 
factions. 

Seneca, in his Treatise on benefactions, has fixed the prin- 
ciples of benevolence : 

1. Benefaction consists especially in the feeling which 
accompanies it, rather than in the thing given. 

"What is a benefaction?" he asks; "it is an act of benevolence 
which procures joy to him who is the object of it and to him who exer- 
cises it : it is a vohintary and spontaneous act. It is tlien not at the 
thing done and given that we must look, but at the intention, because 
the benefaction does not consist in the gift or in tlie action, but in the 
disposition of him wlio gives. The proof of this difference is that the 
benefaction is always a good, whilst the thing done or given is neither 
a good nor an evil. The benefaction is then not the money that is 
counted out to you, the present that is made you ; no more than the 



DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACEIFICE. 123 

worship of the gods consists in its fattest victims, but in the upright- 
ness and piety of their worshipers. 

"One prefers a hand that opens easily to one that gives largely. He 
has done little for me, but he could not do any more. That other has 
given much, but he hesitated, he delayed, he groaned in giving, he 
gave with ostentation ; he proclaimed his good deed ; he did not care 
to please him whom he obliged : it is not to me he gave, it is to his 
vanity." (I., vi.) 

2. One should do good without caring about ingrates. 

" What is after all the wrong the ingrate does you ? You have lost 
your good deed. But there remains to you the most precious part of 
it : the merit of having done it. There are services one should learn 
how to render without hope of returns, to people one may presume will 
be ungrateful, and whom one even knows to have been so. If, for 
example, I can save from a great peril the children of one who has been 
ungrateful to me, I shall not hesitate to do so." (I., x. ) 

3. There must be degrees in benefactions, and, having to 
choose, one must first give the Jiecessary, then the useful, then 
the agreeable. 

"The necessary," says Seneca, "is divided into three classes: the 
first comprises the things without which one cannot live (for example, 
to rescue a man from the sword of the enemy, from the rage of tyrants, 
from proscription, etc. ) ; the second, those without which one should 
not live (such as liberty, honor, virtue) ; finally (3d class), our children, 
our wives, our household gods are objects dearer to us than life. — After 
the necessary comes the useful ; it may be subdivided into a great 
number of species ; it comprises money, honors, and above all the prog- 
ress in the science of virtue. — Finally come the agreeable things which 
are innumerable. . . Let us seek things which please because they are 
to the purpose ; that are not common ; that recall the donor ; let us 
above all beware of useless presents." (I., xi. ) 

4. The manner of granting a benefit is more important than 
the benefit itself. 

' * The simplest rule to follow is to give as we should ourselves wish 
to be given to. 

" One must above all give heartily, mthout hesitation . . . after a re- 
fusal nothing so hard as irresolution. . , The most agreeable kindnesses 
are those one does not expect, which flow naturally ; which anticipate 



124 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. 

their need. It is better to anticipate the request. To forestall this 
trouble is doubling the good deed. 

* ' There are people who spoil their greatest kindnesses by their silence, 
their slowness to speak which comes from constraint and moodiness ; 
they promise with the same air with which they would refuse. . . . 
Their knit brows, their harangues, their disdain make one regret having 
obtained the promised thing. 

' ' Nothing more disagreeable than to be a long time in suspense. There 
are persons Avho prefer giving up hope to languishing in expectation. . . . 
Promptness then enhances the good deed, and tardiness diminishes it. " 
(II., ii-vi.) 

' 5. One must not reproach good deeds. 

" One of the first and most indispensable laws, is not to reproach or 
even recall to the mind of recipients one's kindnesses. The tacit agree- 
ment between the giver and the receiver is, that the one should imme- 
diately forget what he has given, and that the other should never forget 
what he has received. The frequent mention of kindnesses is a crushing 
weight to the soul." 

6. Benevolence consists sometimes in refusing. 

"If the thing asked for is prejudicial to him who asks for it, then 
benevolence consists no longer in giving, but in refusing. We should 
have more regard to the interests of the petitioner than to his wishes. 
As we refuse patients cold water, arms to angry persons, so should we 
also refuse a kindness to the most pressing requests, if that kindness is 
injurious to the interested person. . . One should no less consider the 
end than the principle of kindnesses." 

7. Benevolence must be disinterested. 

" It is shameful to do good for any other motive than doing good. 
If one gave only in the hope of restitution, one would choose the richest 
in preference to the most worthy. . , The least benevolent men would 
be those who had the best means for being benevolent : the rich, the 
great, the king, etc. ... As an insult is a thing one should for itself 
avoid, so benevolence is desirable for its own sake (xv. ) . . . There is no 
benevolence where there is expectation of profit. I shall give so much ; 
I shall receive so much : this is called a bargain." (xiv. ) 

We will put aside the other questions, more curious than 
useful, raised hy Seneca (as, for example, whether one should 
give to the wicked ; whether one may be his own benefactor ; 



DUTIES OF CHAEITY AND SELF-SACKIFICE. 125 

whether one may allow himself to be outdone by good deeds, 
etc.)j and consider now the duties of the one under obligation. 

68. Duties of the person under obligation. — Gratitude. 
— After having expounded the duties of the benefactor, we 
have to ask ourselves what are those of the person under obli- 
gation. The principle of all is gratitude; that only comes 
after the kindness ; but there are duties which precede the 
good deed or accompany it. We shall again cite here Seneca 
as authority. After having set forth the principles which 
should actuate the giver, he also sets forth those the receiver 
should be guided by. 

1. The first principle is that we should not be too greedy 
and receive from any one, but only from those to whom we 
should like to give ourselves : 

* ' It is a painful thing to be under obligations to people against one's 
will. Nothing sweeter, on the contrary, than to receive a kindness from 
a person one loves. . . I must then choose the person of whom I con- 
sent to receive anything, and I should even be more particular in regard 
to kindness-creditors than to money-creditors ; to the latter one need 
only return what he has received from them ; this reimbursement done 
we have acquitted ourselves toward them ; in the matter of kindnesses, 
on the contrary, one should pay more than what he has received. " 

2. A second rule is that from the moment one accepts a 
kindness, he must accept it cheerfully. 

" When we have concluded to accept a kindness, let us do it cheer- 
fully. ... To accept a kindness with pleasure, is making the first pay- 
ment of the interest (II., xxii. ). — There are people who only consent to 
receive in secret ; they Avish neither witnesses to, nor confidants of, the 
obligations they are contracting. If the benefactor is bound to proclaim 
his kindness only inasmuch as its pubHcity will give pleasure to the per- 
son he obliges, the one receiving should, on the contrary, call together 
the crowd. One is at liberty not to accept what he bhishes to receive 
(xxxiii. ). . . . One of the lesser paradoxes of the stoics is, that in 
receiving a kindness cheerfully, one has already acquitted himself." 

3. One must awaken the remembrance of a good deed : to 
rememher is already to acquit one^s self (xxiv.). 



126 ELEMEN^TS OF MORALS. 

' ' Which, according to you, is the most culpable, he who feels no 
gratitude for a kindness, or he who does not even keej) it in mind ? . . . 
It would seem that one thought very little about restitution when he 
has got so far as to forget the kindness. ... To acquit one's self of a 
kindness, one needs means, some fortune ; but the recollection of it is 
a gratitude which costs nothing. To withhold a payment which requires 
neither trouble nor riches, is inexcusable. . . . The objects memory 
is busy with never escape it ; it only loses those it does not often 
revert to." 

69. Kant's rules touching benevolence and gratitude. — 

To the maxims of the ancients which we have just summed 
up, let us add a few principles borrowed of a modern moralist, 
the philosopher Kant : 

Benevolence. — Benevolence, when one is rich, and finds in his super- 
fluity the means of making others happy, should never be considered 
by the benefactor even a meritorious duty. The satisfaction he pro- 
cures t(f himself thereby, and which does not cost him any sacrifice, is 
a means of filling himself with moral sentiments. Therefore must he 
carefully avoid looking as if he thought he was obliging others ; for 
otherwise his kindness would no longer be one ; since he would seem 
wishing to put under obligation the person to whom he grants it. He 
should, on the contrary, show himself under obligation, or as honored 
by the acceptance of his kindness, and consequently fulfill this duty as 
he would pay a debt he had contracted ; or, what is still better, practice 
benevolence wholly in secret. This virtue is still greater when the 
means for being benevolent are restricted : it is then he deserves to be 
considered as very rich morally. (Kant, Doctrine de la Vertu, trad. Fr., 
p. 128.) 

Gratitude. — Gratitude should be considered a holy duty. AVe call, in 
fact, holy any moral object regarding which no act could ehtirel}'- acquit 
one of the contracted obligation. Now there is no way of acquitting 
one's self of a benefit received, because he who receives it cannot refuse to 
him who grants it the merit and advantage of having been the first in 
showing his kindness. 

The least degree of gratitu<le is to render to the benefactor equivalent 
services. It is, also, never to look upon a kindness received as upon a 
burden one would be glad to be rid of (under pretext that it places the 
one under obligation in a position inferior to th.at of his benefactor, 
which is wounding to his pride). One must, on the contrary, accept it 
as a moral kindness, that is to say, as furnishing us an opportunity to 
practice a virtue. (Ibid., p. 130, 132.) 



1 



DUTIES OF CHARITY AKD SELF-SACRIFICE. 127 

70. Precautions which benevolence requires. — Benevo- 
lence should not be exercised without reserve and precaution. 
In abandoning one's self to it imprudently, one may do more 
harm than good. Cicero on this subject recommends three 
principal precautions : 

" One must take care," he says : 

" 1. Lest, in wishing to do a person good, one does harm, 
either to him or to others ; 

" 2. In the second place, let not our benevolence exceed 
our means ; 

" 3. Finally, let every one be treated according to his 
deserts." 

1. Those, in fact, whose benevolence injures him who is the object 
thereof, should be looked upon as flatterers, rather than generous men. 
Those who injure some, to be generous towards others (as, for exam- 
ple, to omit i>aying one's debts, in order to exercise charity), commit 
the same injustice as if they appropriated what belongs to others. Thus, 
when Sylla and Ceesar transferred to strangers the property of lawful 
owners, they were not generous ; liberality may exist then where justice 
is absent. 

2. The second precaution is to exercise our benevolence according to 
our means. Those who wish to be more benevolent than they can 
afford, are in the first place unjust to their family ; since the property, 
to the inheritance of which it has a right, goes thus over to strangers. 
Such generosity often leads, moreover, to the enricliing of one's self at 
the expense of others, hi order to provide for liberalities. One sees, 
thus, many people, more vain than generous, pass for being benevolent. 
It becomes then a borrowed \drtue, which has more of vanit}^ than 
liberality. 

3. The third rule is, whilst dispensing our liberalities, to proportion 
them to merit ; to consider the morals of him who is their object, the 
attachment he shows us, the different relations he may have with us ; 
lastly, the services he may have rendered us. It were desirable he had 
all these titles to our benevolence ; but if he has them not all, the 
greatest and largest in numbers should weigh most in the scales. 

71. Self-devotion — Self-abnegation — Sacrifice. — When 
charity reaches the highest degree ; when it requires we 
should give to others what we hold most dear — as, for instance, 



128 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

life, fortune, etc. — it takes another name and is called devo- 
tion, self-abnegation , sacrifice. These three words, with various 
shadings, express the idea of a precious gift of which one 
deprives himself to benefit others. One may devote one's self 
to others in various ways, in choosing for one's object either 
the life, or Avelfare, or liberty, or the morality and intelligence 
of others. Let us examine these various forms of devotion. 

72. The nature of the benefit. — Diverse forms of self- 
devotion. — The life, the welfare, the morality of others, 
etc. — Sacrificing one^s life for others. — Justice requires we 
should not attack the life of others ; charity requires more : 
it demands that we make every effort to save the life of our 
fellow-beings, even sometimes at the cost of our own. 

This duty, which is a duty of charity for men in general, is 
a duty of justice for the physician and all those who have care 
of the sick. The physician owes his devotion to the patient, 
as the soldier owes his to his country. In both these cases 
medical duty, military duty, devotion is a strict duty. It is 
at the same time a duty toAvards men and a duty towards the 
profession. It is in both cases what may be called the honor 
of the fiag. Thus do we every year see a certain number of 
young hospital physicians die, like soldiers on the field of 
honor. 

The duty of attending the sick and being thereby exposed 
to contagion, falls alike on all who have chosen this profession : 
sisters of charity, the nurses, the male and female attendants 
in infirmaries. It is also a duty in the family ; the parents 
owe themselves to their children ; the servants themselves 
should assume in a certain measure the same responsibility, 
although it is the duty of the masters to spare them as much 
as possible. Moreover, it is known how common this devotion 
is, especially with mothers, and how many of them die of the 
illness they have contracted at tlie bedside of their children. 
In all these circumstances, it is of course not forbidden to be 
cautious, and wisdom requires one should not go beyond tlie 



DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACRIFICE. 129 

strictly necessary ; but the necessary is obligatory ; and on 
whom should it fall more naturally than on the parents ? 

Besides the illnesses which threaten the lives of men, there 
are dangers more sudden, more violent, more terrible, which 
arise from the invasion of the forces of nature : fire and water 
are the most terrible ; conflagi-ations, inundations, shipwrecks, 
catastrophes of all kinds imperil the lives of men. 

Here the question is no longer one of slow and leisurely 
attentions. To save a life which a minute later will be ex- 
tinguished, there is wanted a sudden resolution, a well-tested 
courage, and the will to risk one's life for that of another. In 
these terrible circumstances there are some men who seem to 
be more naturally called than others to sacrifice themselves ; 
for example, firemen and sailors. It is certain that it is those 
who are the more familiar with the element it is necessary to 
combat, that are most called to do so, and for whom self-de- 
votion becomes a greater duty. But it is not always possible 
to have them immediateh^ at hand ; in a sudden catastrophe, 
all must take their share of the peril ; all must be ready to 
give their life for others if they can do so with some utility. 

Devotion towards the u'retched. — Xext to health and life, 
what men most esteem are material goods and that which 
is called fortune. Certainly, we should not encourage this 
estimation men have for material goods ; one should as much 
as possible teach them to do without them ; and the saying 
that happiness resides rather in a small competence than in 
riches, is most true. But it is not less true that the material 
things are absolutely necessary to life, and that the absence 
of these things is in every respect prejudicial to man, since 
health, life, and even the interests of the soul and mind, depend 
on these material goods. How can we educate ourselves with- 
out eating? How can we improve the heart and soul when 
want impels us to all sorts af temptations ? Finally, suffering 
itself, though morality commands us to bear it with courage, 
is a legitimate object of sympathy. From all these consider- 
ations arises, for those who possess anything, the obligation to 



130 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 

come to the assistance of those who have nothing : this is what 
is called gift. This obligation can be satisfied in many ways, 
but the mode should certainly consist with the dignity and 
responsibility of those who are the object of the gift. Ex- 
perience has shown that an ill-understood charity encourages 
idleness and often rewards and perpetuates vice. It is there- 
fore work which should above all be furnished to the poor : 
the loan should generally be preferred to the gift ; but finally, 
whatever precaution3 one may take, and whatever be the causes 
of the misery, there comes always a moment when, in presence 
of hunger, illness, supreme want, one must give ; must deprive 
himself for others. As to the particular rules which govern 
benevolence, we have given them above in speaking of bene- 
factions. ; /^^v.. '. 

Consolatioyis, exhortations, instructions. After the duties 
toward the body come the duties toward the soul : and this 
distinction has place for others as for ourselves. It is not 
enough to insure and save the lives of men, and give them 
the daily bread ; one must also nourish their souls, their 
intelligences, their moral weaknesses, which also need suste- 
nance. Thence three different obligations : to console the 
afflicted ; to exhort the weak ; to instruct the ignorant. The 
consoling of the afflicted is a virtue, which needs no rule, and 
does not admit of any. One does not console by order, 
by processes, by principles. Here the heart is better than 
strict laws. Listen to your heart ; it will teach you how to 
be merciful without being indiscreet; how to touch without 
wounding ; how to say enough without saying too much. In 
respect to poor people, one often consoles them by relieving 
their misery, and the duty here blends with benevolence. 
After the consolation come the exhortations. The duty here 
becomes more and more delicate. It is no easy thing to ad- 
vise men ; we have not even always a right to do so ; for it 
is attributing to ourselves a certain superiority over them. 
This duty of exliortation is therefore an affectation of pride 
rather than an inspiration of fraternity. It is especially with 



DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACRIFICE. l3l 

children, with young people, that good exhortations properly 
made can be useful. In a few words, moderate and just, one 
may often recall to them their duties of respect towards them- 
selves, and of economy, sobriety, devotion towards their rela- 
tives. Finally comes the duty of instruction. Here it is not 
the office of all, but only of those who are charged with this 
function. Yet may we contribute our share towards the in- 
struction of children either by money-contributions, or by 
visiting the schools, or by encouragement-societies; in a word, 
by all sorts of auxiliary means. Such are the principal duties 
in regard to souls. 

73. Clemency. — Pardon of injuries. — Love of enemies. 

— The foregoing duties consist not only in returning good for 
evil, but also in doing good to those who have not done us 
any. A superior degree of charity, which is called generosity, 
consists in returning good for evil, in forgiving the wicked, — 
not the wrong they have done to others, but the wrong they 
have done to ourselves. This, in the case of sovereigns, is 
called clemency. The saying of Louis XII. is well known, 
having pardoned the enemies he had had before taking the 
crown : " The king," said he, " should forget the injuries done 
to the duke of Orleans." The great Conde was moved to 
tears over Corneille's celebrated lines in Cinna : 

" Let us be friends, Cinna ; it is I who invite tliee : 
I gave thee thy life as to my enemy, 
And despite the fury of thy cowardly designs, 
I still give it thee, as to my murderer. " 

The duty of returning good for evil goes even further than 
clemency and the pardon of injuries : for this is nothing more 
than to abstain from wronging one's enemies. But we should do 
more : we must be capable of doing good to our enemies when 
they deserve it, or need it ; and further still, we should try to 
carry the virtue even so far as to interdict ourselves any 
feeling of pride, which would naturally arise in a heart great 
enough to avenge itself by benefits. 



132 ELEMEKTS OF MORALS. 

The philosopher Spinoza has admirably expressed this 
doctrine : " Hatred must be overcome not by hatred, but by 
love and generosity." 

74. Duties of kindness towards animals.— Among the 

moralists, there are some who do not admit that we have any 
duties towards beings inferior to man, namely, animals ; others, 
on the contrary, do not admit any duties towards any above 
man, consequently towards God ; others, in fine, deny that 
man has any towards himself. There are scarcely any duties, 
except those towards our fellow-beings, that have not been 
questioned by one or the other of the moralists : some con- 
necting the latter with the duties towards ourselves, or the 
duties towards God. 

According to us, there are four classes of duties, and these 
four classes are not reducible the one to the other. "^ 

No one can deny from a practical point of view that there 
are duties towards animals ; for we know very well that it is 
not permitted to maltreat them or cause them unnecessary 
pain ; and every enlightened conscience condemns cruelty to 
animals. Therefore can there be here question only of a spec- 
ulative scruple. It can be very well seen that there is a duty 
here ; but it is, they say, a duty towards ourselves ; for it is 
our duty not to be cruel, and cruelty toward animals accustoms 
us too easily to cruelty toward men. But this is a very use- 
less subtlety, and too roundabout a way to express a very 
simple thing. We prefer simply saying that kindness toward 
an animal is a duty toward that animal. 

Besides, the reasons given against the duties toward animals, 
appear to us more specious than substantial. It is said that 
animals, having neither will nor intelligence, are not persons, 
but tilings ; tliat, consequently, they have no rights, and that 
we can have no duties toward what has no rights. 

These are inadmissible subtleties. One can, in law terms, 
divide all objects of nature into i)ersons and things; and 

* See our Morale, liv. II., ch. v. 



DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACRIFICE. 133 

animals, not being persons, are things, in the sense that they 
can be appropriated. But, strictly speaking, can a being en- 
dowed with sensibility be called a thing ? Is it true, moreover, 
that an animal has no intelligence, no will — that consequently 
it has not any vestige of personahty? Is it true again that an 
animal has no kind of rights ? This, in the first place, is to 
suppose what is in question. And, moreover, does not con- 
science say to us that an animal which has served us long 
years with affection has thereby acquired a certain right to our 
gratitude ? And, finally, is it really true that we have only 
duties towards those that have duties towards us 1 That were 
a very perilous maxim in social morality. "We are told not to 
be cruel to animals in order not to become cruel towards men. 
But if one were sure not to become cruel towards men, would 
it follow therefrom that it is permitted to be so towards ani- 
mals ? IsTo, it will be said ; but it is because cruelty, though 
its object be only animals, is in itself a vice, base and un- 
worthy of man. One should not conclude from that, that 
cruelty is a direct crime against them. But for the same 
reason it might be maintained that we have no duties toward 
others, and only toward ourselves ; injustice, cruelty, are odious 
vices in themselves ; goodness and justice, noble qualities ; 
we should shun the one and avoid the other out of respect for 
ourselves, and regardless of the object of these vices and virtues. 
If, despite these considerations, it is then thought better to 
make, nevertheless, a distinction between the duties toward 
others and those toward ourselves, there should for the same 
reason be made a distinct class of the duties toward animals. 
Finally, if we owe nothing to animals, it is not very clear why 
acts hypothetically indifferent should be treated as cruelties ; 
nor why such acts should be considered as lowering and dis- 
honoring the character. 

On the whole, and to avoid all theoretical difficulties, it 
may be said that we have duties, if not toward animals, at 
least in regard to animals. 

Our duties in regard to animals, are they, however, of a kind 



134 ELEMENTS OE MORALS. 

to make us doubt our riglit to destroy or reduce them to 
servitude? 

The destruction of animals may have two causes ; it may 
be for our defense, it may be for our subsistence. As to the 
first there is no difficulty ; the right of legitimate self-defense 
authorizes us to destroy what ^vould otherwise destroy us. 
Between us and beasts injurious to man there is evidently a 
state of natural war, and in that state the law is that might 
makes right. This same law is the one which regulates the 
relations of the animals between themselves : it is also their 
law in regard to us. The lion, for instance, might not always 
be as tenderly inclined as the lion of Androcles or the lion of 
Florence : it would not be well to trust it. We need not, 
therefore, even theoretically, entertain any scruples concerning 
the destruction of injurious animals. 

Is it the same with the destruction of animals intended for 
our nourishment ? Is this destruction innocent, or must we, 
as did the Pythagoreans or Brahmins of old (for superstitious 
reasons, however), interdict all animal food 1* This question 
has been so well solved by general usage that it is scarcely 
necessary to raise it. It is not likely men will ever think of 
giving up animal food, and no one regrets having eaten of a 
good roast. Yet for those who like to find out the reason of 
things, it is a problem to know whether we have the right to 
do what we do without remorse and scruples ; and whether a 
universal and apparently indestructible practice is also a legiti- 
mate and innocent practice. Man, according to us, in living 
on flesh, is justified by nature herself, who made him a car- 
nivorous creature. Every being is authorized to perform the 
acts which result from its organization.! The human organi- 
zation, as the nature of the teeth and the whole digestive sys- 
tem indicate, is prepared to nourish itself with flesh. In 
many countries even all other nourishment is impossible ; 

* Abstinence from the flesh of animals was based by Pythagoras, as it was with 
tli(: l^rahmiiis, iii)()n tlie doctrine of nictempsycliosis. 
t Tiie question is as to tlie acts themselves, and not their abuse. 



DUTIES OF CHAEITY AND SELF-SACRIFICE. 135 

there are peoples whose very situation makes them necessarily 
hunters, fishermen, or shepherds ; it is only in some countries 
highly favored, and, thanks to scientific cultivation, the result 
of civilization, that vegetable food could be made abundant 
enough to suffice, and hardly that for large masses of popula- 
tion ; for we know quite well what disasters follow upon a 
scarcity of crops. What would be the result if the human 
race were deprived of half its means of subsistence 1 Add to 
this that, whatever may have been said against it, animal food 
mixed in a certain measure with vegetable food, is indispen- 
sable to the health and vigor of the human race. .. ^' ^'"^ 

As to the servitude of animals and the labor we impose on '^J * '^ 
them, its justification lies first in the principle of legitimate 
self-defense, to which we have just now alluded. Many of 
our domestic races would, in a savage state, become veritable 
wild beasts. The wild hog is, they say, the wild boar ; the 
wild dog, the jackal ; the wild cat belongs to the leopard and 
tiger family. In reducing these sorts of animals to servitude, • 
and in making of them companions and help-mates in our 
work, we thereby deliver ourselves from dangerous enemies. 
Domestication is better than destruction. Add to this, that 
if we except the first animals which have passed from the 
savage state to the domestic state (which, as to our domestic 
races, is lost in the night of time and escapes all responsibility), 
the present animals, born in servitude, know no other state, 
do not suffer froui a want of liberty, and find even, thanks to 
our cares, a more certain subsistence than if they were free. 
They are, it is true, sacrificed by us to our wants, but they 
would be so by other animals in the savage state. Whether 
a sheep be eaten by men or wolves, it is not to be more pitied 
for that, one way or the other. 

The right- of man over animals being set aside, there re- 
mains an essential duty respecting them, namely : not to make 
them sufi'er without necessity. 

Fontenelle relates that, having gone one day to see Male- 



136 ELEMENTS or MOKALS. 

branche,* at the fathers of the Oratoire, a dog of the house, 
big with young, entered the room and rolled about at the feet 
of the father. After having tried in vain to drive it away, 
Malebranche gave the dog a kick which caused it to utter a 
cry of pain and Fontenelle a cry of compassion : " Oh, pshaw! " 
said father Malebranche, coolly, " do you not know that these 
things do not feeH" 

How could this philosopher be sure that these things did 
not feel 1 Is not the animal organized in the same manner as 
man ? Has he not the same senses, the same nervous system ? 
Does he not give the same signs of impressions received? 
Why should not the cry of the animal express pain as does 
the cry of a child 1 When man is not perverted by custom, 
cruelty, or the spirit of system, he cannot see the sufferings of 
animals without suffering himself, a manifest proof that there 
is something in common between them and us, for sympathy 
is by reason of similitude. 

Animals, then, suffer ; this is undeniable ; they have, like 
ourselves, a physical sensibility ; but they have also a certain 
moral sensibility ; they are capable of attachment, of gratitude, 
of fidelity ; of love for their little ones, of reciprocal affection. 
From this physical and moral analogy between men and ani- 
mals, there obviously results the obligation of inflicting upon 
them no useless suffering. Madame Necker de Saussuref re- 
lates the story of a child who, finding himself in a garden 
where a tamed quail was freely running about beside the cage 
of a bird of prey, yielded to the temptation of seizing the 
poor quail and giving it to the bird to devour. The hero of 
this adventure relates himself the punishment inflicted on 
him : 

" At dinner — there was a great deal of company that day — 
the master of the house began to relate the scene, coolly and 
without any remarks, simply naming me. When he was 

* A philosopher of the school of Descartes, who, like his master, taught that ani- 
rnals are machines, 
f Education progressive, VI., iv. 



DUTIES OF CHARITY AKD SELF-SACRIFICE. 137 

through, there was a moment of general silence, where every 
one looked at me with a kind of horror. I heard some words 
exchanged among the guests, and without any one's directly 
speaking to me, I could understand that everybody thought 
me a monster." 

Connected with the cruelty toward animals are certain 
barbarous games where animals are made to fight with each 
other for our pleasure. Such are the bull-fights in Spain; 
the cock-fights in England ; we do not go so far as to rank 
the chase among inhuman games, because, on the one hand, it 
has for its object to destroy the animals injurious to our forests 
and crops, and to furnish us useful food; and on the other, it 
is an exercise favorable to health, and exercises certain facul- 
ties of the soul ; but the chase must at least not be a mas- 
sacre, and must have for its end utility. 

Brutality toward the animals which render us the greatest 
services, and which we see every day loaded beyond their 
strength, and beaten to bear up under the load, is also an 
odious act, and doubly wrong, as it is both contrary to hu- 
manity and contrary to our interests, since these animals, 
overloaded and beaten, will not be long in succumbing to the 
violence of their persecutors. 

JN^or can we consider as absolutely indifferent the act of 
killing or selling (except in cases of extreme necessity) a do- 
mestic animal that has served us a long time, and whose 
attachment we have experienced. "Among the conquerors 
at the Olympic Games," the ancients tell us, " many share 
the distinctions which they receive with the horses which 
have helped to procure them ; they provide for them a happy 
old age ; they accord them an honorable burial, and some- 
times even raise a monument over their graves." 

" It is not reasonable," saj^s Plutarch, "to use things which have life 
and feeling, as we would use a shoe or any other instrument, throwing 
it away when worn out and ruined by dint of service done ; if it were 
for no other cause than to induce and stimulate us to constant compas- 
sion, we should accustom ourselves to gentleness and charitableness, 



138 , ELEMEl^TS OF MOEALS. 

even to performing the humblest offices of kindness ; as for me, I should 
never have the heart to sell an ox who for a long time had ploughed 
my land, because, by reason of old age, he can no longer work. " 

A very serious question has been raised these latter times, 
namely, the question of vivisection, and how far, in a scientific 
point of view, we have a right to practice on living animals. 
The point is not to interdict to science what is the indispen- 
sable condition of its progress and propagation ; but we should 
limit ourself to the strictly necessary, and not with revolt- 
ing prodigality multiply sacrifices that are not absolutely 
useful. 

One of the principal reasons for condemning cruelty toward 
animals, is that through the instinct of imitation and sym- 
pathy men may get into the habit of doing to others what 
they have seen practiced on animals. Tliere is a story of a 
child who caused his brother to suffer the same death he had 
just seen inflicted on an animal.* 

The men who are brutal toward animals are likewise so 
toward each other, and treat with the same cruelty their wives 
and children. 

It is by reason of these considerations of social utility and 
humanity that the law in France decided to interfere to pre- 
vent and punish the bad treatment inflicted upon animals ;t 
and the consequences of this measure have been most happy. 

* Bulletin de la Societe Protectrice des Animaux. June, 1868. 

t Law of the 2d July, 1850, called Grammont Law: "Shall be punishable by a 
fine of from five to fifteen francs, or from one to five days' imprisonment, any one who 
.shall publicly and abusively have maltreated domestic animals. In case of repeti- 
tion of the offence, imprisonment. 

A society— Socici^ Protectrice des AniTriMuoo— has been formed to come in aid to .the 
law. The principal articles of its statutes arc : " The aim of the society is to ame- 
liorate, by all the means in its power, and conformal)ly to the law of the 2d of July, 
1850, the condition of animals. The society awards recompenses to any propagating 
its work and inventing proper means to the relief of animals ; to the agents of the 
police, pointed out by their chiefs as haviiig enforced the laws and regulations for 
tl)e ])revention of cruelty and ill-treatment towards animals ;— to the agents of agri- 
culture, shepherds, farm-help, farmers, leaders of cattle ;— to coachmen, butcher- 
boys, smiths— in short, to any person who, in some high degree, shall have given 
proof of good treatment, intelligent and contirmed care and compassion toward ani- 
mals." See in its Bulletins, the useful results obtained by this interesting society. 



J 



CHAPTEK YII. 

DUTIES TOWAKD THE STATE. 



SUMMARY. 

Three groups of societies among men : Humanity, the family, the 

country, or the State. 
Analysis of patriotism. 

Foundation of the State. — Law and rights. Public authority : dis- 
tinction between society and the State. The three powers. Sov- 
ereignty. The right of punishment. 
Duties toward the State: 1. Obedience to the laios.—T\\e Crito of 
Plato. Pretended exceptions to this principle. Criticising -the laws 
is not disobedience. 

2. Respect to ^nagistrates. — The magistrates being the representa- 
tives of the laws, to respect them is to respect the law itself ; to insult 
them is to insult the law. 

3. The ballot. — Obligation to vote. The character of the ballot: 
1, disinterested; 2, free; 3, enlightened. 

4. Taxes. — Immorality of frauds against the State. 

5. Military service. — Legal and moral obligation. Attempts to 
escape it : 1, by mutilations ; 2, by simulated infirmities ; 3, by deser- 
tion ; want of discipline. 

6. Educational obligation. 

Civil courage.— Noted example : Boissy d'Anglas. 

75. Three groups of societies.— Cicero and Fenelon 
remark that there are three sorts of societies among men : the 
first comprises the whole of humanity; the last, which is the 
most circumscribed, is what is called the family. But between 
the family and the human race in general, there is an inter- 
mediate society, larger than the one and more circumscribed 
than the other, and this is what is called the country. 



140 



ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 



76. Palpiotlsm. — The sentiment which binds us to the 
country, and which, articulated, becomes a duty, is what is 
called patriotism. We have already given elsewhere,* an 
analysis of patriotism. Let us repeat what we have said : 

Patriotism is one of our most complex sentiments : it is in fact com- 
posed of many distinct elements : it is, in the first place, the love of the 
soil where we were born ; and this soil is at first the narrow territory 
where our youth passed, and which we embraced entire with the eyes 
and recollections : it is the native village, the native city. But if this 
is the first sense of country, it falls far short of embracing the whole 
country. The love for the native church steeple is not patriotism : it is 
even its opposite often. The soil must extend, Aviden, and from the 
natal house, must gradually embrace, by successive additions, the 
village, the town, the county, the province, the whole country. But 
what is to determine the extent of this territory ? Who is to decide 
that it shall go so far and no farther ? There enter into it many ele- 
ments : first, the inhabitants, the fellow-citizens, fellow-countrymen ; 
a soil deserted would not be a country ; to the love of the territory there 
must be added the love of those who inhabit it with us, or of our felloio- 
countrymen; to the nomadic people the country is only their tribe. 
Conversely, the citizens without the soil are not the country either, for 
exile in common is not the less exile. Finally, the union of soil and 
fellow-citizens may still not be the country, at least not all the country ; 
a conquered nation may preserve its soil and its inhabitants, and have 
lost the country : as Poland, for instance. What, then, are the ties to 
determine the existence of a country ? There are a large number of 
them, such as the unity of language, the unity of laws, the unity of the 
flag, historic tradition, and, finally, above all, the unity of government 
and of an accepted government. A country exists only where there is 
an independent political state. This political unity does not suffice 
when the other ties are wanting ; when it is a constraint, when peoples 
united under the same government have ditterent manners, customs, 
traditions ; conversely, unity of language and community of habits, will 
neither be sufficient when the political unity or a certain form of polit- 
ical unity is wanting. But what, before everything else, constitutes 
the country, is a common spirit, a common soul, in short, a cominon 
name, which fuses into one all these separate facts of which no single 
one is absolutely necessary, but of which each forms an additional ele- 
ment to the strength of the country. Finally, as a last condition, the 



Traite ilimcntaire de philosophic, p. 262, 



DUTIES TOWARD THE STATE. 141 

association which is to become a country must not, as was the case \vith 
the Roman empire, extend over too much territory ; for beyond certain 
limits, patriotism relaxes. 

Nature has endowed us with this sentiment of patriotism. 
There is no one that does not love his country better than 
other countries, that is not flattered by national glory, that 
does not suifer from the humiliations and miseries of his 
native coimtry. But this sentiment is more or less strong, 
according to temperaments. Often it is nothing more than a 
sentiment, and does not express itself in actions. It is the 
reflective faculties which make of patriotism a duty, which 
duty demands that sentiment pass into action ; demands of all 
the citizens the same acts, whatever be the personal inclina- 
tions of each. 

The duties imposed on each man in regard to the particular 
society of which he is a member, are called civil duties. He, 
himself, in regard to this society, is what is called a citizen ; 
finally, the society itself, considered as one and the same per- 
son, of which the citizens are the members, is what is called 
the State or the city. 

On the whole, there is no difi'erence between country and 
Stnie. Country is at the same time Society and soil. It is 
called by that name (State) when looked upon in the light 
of a family of which the citizens are the children, and also 
when considered in its relations with other nations and other 
societies. The State is that same society considered interiorly 
and in itself, not as to its soil and territory, but as to the 
members that compose it, and in as far as these members form 
one and the same body and are governed by laws. The 
country is a more concrete and more vivid expression, whicli 
appeals more to the feelings ; the State is a more abstract ex- 
pression, which addresses itself to reason. Besides, we shall 
understand better what is meant by the State, when we shaU 
have explained the nature of public authority and the laws. 

77. Foundation of the State — Rights.— To understand the 



U2 



ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 



nature of the State and what is called authority, sovereignty, 
magistracy, law, one must begin with the notion of rights and 
of the different kinds of rights. 

Duty is the law which imposes on us obligations either to- 
ward ourselves or toward others ; it is a moral necessity (p. 
11). Bights is the power we have to exercise and develop 
our faculties conformably to our destiny, provided we allow 
other men the same power : it is a moral power (Leibnitz). 
Each man, by reason of his enjoying liberty and intelligence, 
is a person, and should not be treated as a thing. " Man is a 
thing sacred to man," said the ancients. He is inviolable in 
his personality and in all that constitutes the development of 
his personality. 

Thence follows an immediate consequence : it is, that every 
man being man by the same title, no one can claim for him- 
self a right which he is not willing to recognize at the same 
time in another ; hence the equality of rights. Besides, the 
liberty of one cannot, without contradiction, suppress the lib- 
erty of another, whence this other definition : Eight is the 
accord of liberties. 

78. The rights of man. — What are the principal rights of 
man ? They are : the right of self-preservation ; the right of 
going and coming, or individual liberty ; the liberty of work ; 
the right of property ; the liberty of thought ; the liberty of 
conscience ; the right of family, etc. 

We have also seen that man (p. 52) has a final right which 
is the guaranty and the sanction of all others ; it is the right 
of preventing by force every attempt at his rights ; to con- 
strain others to respect his rights, and lastly, to punish every 
violation of his rights. This is what is called the right of 
self-defense. 

79. Public authority.— Man having, as we have just seen, 
the right of self-defense by opposing force to any attack, pos- 
sesses, when alone, and far from all human help, this right in 
all its plenitude. But it is easy to see the dangers and inex- 
p(3diency of such a right in a society. Eacli man, in fact, 



DUTIES TOWARD THE STATE. 143 

when he meets with opposition to his will and desires, always 
thinks himself injured in his rights. If every one were free 
to defend himself in all circumstances, the right of self-defense 
would keep men constantly under arms ; and society, without 
a regulating power to check their doings, would soon, as the 
philosopher Hobbes expressed it, be " the war of all against all.'''' 
Hence the necessity of the State — that is to say, of a disinter- 
ested poioer — taking in hand the defense of all, and insuring the 
proper exercise of the right of self-defense by suppressing its 
abuses. This is what is called public autliority. 

80. Society and the State.— We must distinguish be- 
tween society and the State, or ncdural society and civil so- 
ciety. 

Society is the union which exists between men, without 
distinction of frontiers — without exterior restraint — and for 
the sole reason that they are men. An Englishman and an 
Indian, as Locke says, meeting in the waste forests of America 
(Robinson and Friday), are, from the fact alone of their com- 
mon nature, in a state of society. 

The civil society or Stcde is an assemblage of men subject 
to a common autliority, to common laws — that is to say, a so- 
ciety whose members may be constrained by public force to 
respect their reciprocal rights. 

81. The three powers. — There results from that, that two 
necessary elements enter into the idea of the State : laws and 
force. The laws are the general rules which establish before- 
hand and fix after deliberation, and abstractly, the rights of 
each ; force is the physical restraint the public power is armed 
with to have the laws executed. Hence two powers in the 
State, the legislative power and the edcecidive power — one that 
makes the law ; the other that executes it, and to which may 
generally be added a third, namely, judiciary power, which, 
on its part, is empowered to apply and interpret the law.* 

82. Sovereignty. — These three powers emanate from a 

* Concerning these three powers, see Montesquieu, Esprit des lots, I., xi. 



144 ELEMEKTS OF MOKALS. 

common source which, is called sovereign. In all States, the 
sovereign is the authority which is in possession of the three 
preceding powers and delegates them. In an absolute mon- 
archy, the sovereign is the monarch, who of himself exercises 
the legislative and executive power, sometimes even the ju- 
dicial power. In a democrac}^, the sovereign is the univer- 
sality of the citizens, or the 2^eople, which delegates the three 
powers, and even in some cases exercises them. 

As to the basis of sovereignty, two systems face each other : 
the divine right and the sovereignty of the people. In the first, 
the authority emanates from God, who transmits it to chosen 
families ; in the second, societies, like individuals, are free 
arbiters, and belong to themselves ; they are answerable for 
their destinies ; and this can only be true of the entire society ; 
for why should certain classes rather than others have the 
privilege to decide about the fate of each 1 The sovereignty 
of the people is then nothing else than the right of each to 
participate in public power, either of himself or through his 
representatives. This principle tends more and more to pre- 
dominate in civilized States. 

83. Political liberty. — Political liberty means all the 
guaranties which insure to every citizen the legitimate exer- 
cise of his natural rights ; political liberty is, then, the sanc- 
tion of civil liberty. 

The principal of these guaranties are : 1, the right of suf- 
frage^ wdiich insures to every one his share of sovereignty; 2, 
the separation of powers, which puts into different hands the 
executive, legislative, send judicial powers; 3, the liberty of the 
press, which insures the right of minorities, and allows them 
to employ argument to change or modify the ideas and opin- 
ions of the majority. 

84. The right of punishment. — The right of punishment 
in a State is nothing else than the right of restraint, which, as 
we have already seen, is inherent in the very idea of the 
State ; for the State only exists to insure to each the exercise 
of his rights, and it can only do so by restraint and the use of 



DCJTIES TOWAED THE STATE. 145 

force. How far can this right of force go ? Can it, for ex- 
ample, go so far as the taking of life even ? This is a mooted 
question between publicists, and upon which we have, more- 
over, already expressed ourselves (p. 55 et seq.). 

After having in these summary views resolved the principle 
upon which the State rests,"^ and the essential elements which 
enter into the idea, we are better prepared to approach what 
constitutes the object proper of civil morality, namely, the 
duties of citizens toward the country or the State. 

85. Civil duties. — These duties are the following: Obedi- 
ence to the laws; respect of magistrates ; the ballot ; military 
service ; educational obligations. 

86. Obedience to the laws. — The first of the civil duties, 
is obedience to the laws. The reason is evident. The State 
rests on the law. It is the law which substitutes, for the will 
of individuals, always more or less carried away by passion or 
governed b}" self-interest, a general, impartial, and disinterested 
rule. The law is the guaranty of all: it opposes itself to 
force, or rather puts force in the service of justice, instead of 
making of justice the slave of force. Pascal says : " Xot 
being able to make that which is just, strong, men have wished 
that what is strong should be just." This is the jest of a 
misanthrope. Certainly the laws are not always as just as 
they might be, despite the efforts made to render them so : 
the reason of it is, the extreme complexity of interests be- 
tween which it is difficult to find a true balance and just equi- 
librium ; but such as they are, they are infinitely more just 
than the right of the strongest, which would alone reign if 
there were no laws. 

The empire of the laws is then that which secures m^der in 
a society, and consequently procures for each of its members 
security and peace, and through these, the means cf devoting 
himself to his work, whether intellectual or material, and of 
reaping the fruits thereof. 

* See on this subject the Notions d' instruction civiq-ue. 

' 7 



146 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

At the same time that the law guarantees order within, it 
also insures the independence of the nation from without. 
For a nation without laws, or which no longer obeys its laws, 
falls into anarchy and becomes the prey of the first conqueror 
who presents himself, as is shown by the history of Poland. 

It is especially in democratic or republican states, that 
obedience to the laws is necessary, as it is there the most 
difficult. 

Montesquieu has shown with great sagacity the difficulty 
and thereby the necessity of obedience to the laws in a democ- 
racy ; in fact, what in other governments is obtained by con- 
straint, in a democracy depends only upon the will of the 
citizens. 

"It is clear," says Montesquieu, "that in a monarchy, where he 
who causes the laws to be executed is above the laws, there is less 
virtue requisite than in a popular government, where he who causes 
the laws to be executed, feels that he is himself subject to them, and will 
have to bear the consequence of their violation. 

" It is further clear that a monarch who, through bad advice or negli- 
gence, ceases to have the laws executed, may easily repair the evil ; he 
has but to change counselors or correct himself of his negligence. But 
when in a popular government, the laws have ceased to be executed, as 
this can only happen through the corruption of the republic, the State 
is already lost." 

Montesquieu then describes, in the strongest and liveliest 
colors, a republican state where the laws have ceased to be 
enforced. 

"They were free with the laws ; they wish to be free without them. 
Each citizen is as a slave escaped from the house of his master. What 
before was called maxim, is now called severity ; what was rule is now 
annoying restraint ; what was attention, is now fear. The republic has 
become booty, and its strength is no longer anything more than the 
power of a few and the license of all." 

In the r(;))ublics of Athens and Rome, as long as they were 
prosperous and great, the empire of the laws was admirable. 
Socrates, in his })i'is()u, gave of this a siil)Iinio exa-nq)l('. Ho 



DUTIES TOWARD THE STATE. 147 

was unjustly condemned by his fellow-citizens to drink the 
hemlock, namely, to die by poison. Meanwhile, his friends 
pressed him to resort to flight ; and everything leads to the 
belief that this would have been quite easy, as the judges 
themselves almost wished to be relieved of the responsibility 
of his death. Yet Socrates resisted, and refused to employ 
this means of safety. The principal reason given by him was, 
that, having been condemned by the laws of his country, he 
could save himself only by violating these laws. 

This is what Plato has expressed in the dialogue entitled 
Onto. The laws of the country are represented as addressing 
a speech to Socrates ; it is called the Prosoipoj^oeia * of Crito : 

" Socrates," they will say to me, "was that our agreement, or was it 
not rather that thou shouldst submit to the judgments rendered by the 
republic ? . . . What cause of complaint hast thou against us that thou 
shouldst try to destroy us ? Dost thou not, in the firet place, owe us thy 
life ? Was it not under our auspices that thy father took to himself the 
companion that gave thee birth ? If thou owest us thy birth and edu- 
cation, canst thou deny that thou art our child and servant ? And if 
this be so, thinkest thou thy rights equal to ours ; and that thou art 
permitted to make us sutler for what we make thee suffer ? What ! in the 
case of a father or a master, if thou hadst one, thou wouldst not have 
the right to do to him what he would do to thee ; to speak to him in- 
sultingly if he insulted thee ; to strike him, if he struck thee, nor any- 
thing like it ; and thou shouldst hold such a right toward thy country ! 
and if we had sentenced thee to death, thinking the sentence just, thou 
shouldst undertake to destroy us ! . . . Does not thy wisdom teach 
thee that the country has a greater right to thy respect and homage, 
that it is more august and more wise before the gods and the sages, than 
father, mother, and all ancestors ; that the country in its anger must 
be respected, that one must convince it of its error through persuasion, 
or obey its commands, suffer without murmuring whatever it orders to 
be suffered, even to be beaten and loaded with chains ? . . . What else 
then dost thou do ? " they would proceed to say, ' ' than violate the 
treaty that binds thee to us, and trample under foot thy agreement ? 

* Prosopopoeia in rhetoric is the form of expression which consists in animating 
physical or abstract things, in lending them "a soul, a mind, a visage" (Boileau), 
in making them speak or being siioken to as if they were present and living. In 
Crito, the laws are personified, and it is they that speak. 



148 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

... In suffering thy sentence, thou diest an honorable victim of the 
iniquity, not of the laws, but of men ; but if thou takest to flight, thou 
repellest unworthily injustice by injustice, evil by evil, and thou vio- 
latest the treaty whereby thou wert under obligation to us : thou im- 
perilest those it was thy duty to protect, thou imperilest thyself, thy 
friends, thy country, and us. We shall be thy enemies all thy life ; 
and when thou shalt descend to the dead, our sisters, the laws of Hades, 
knowing that thou hast tried thy best to destroy us here, will not re- 
ceive thee very favorably."' 

Pretended Exceptions. — The duty of obedience to the laws 
must then be admitted as a principle ; but is this duty abso- 
lute? is it not susceptible of some exceptions? A learned 
theologian of the XYI. century, a Jesuit, Suarez {Traite des 
lots, III., iv.), admits three exceptions to the obedience due to 
the law : 1, if a law is unjust — for an unjust law is no law — 
not only is one not obliged to accept, but even, when accepted, 
one is not obliged to obey it ; 2, if it is too hard ; for then 
one may reasonably presume that the law was not made by 
the prince with the absolute intention that it should be 
obeyed, but rather as an experiment ; now, under this sup- 
position one can always begin by not observing it ; — 3, if, in 
fact, the majority of the people have ceased to observe it, 
even though the first who had commenced should have sinned ; 
the minority is not obliged to observe what the majority has 
abandoned : for one cannot suppose the prince to intend 
obliging such or such individuals to observe it, when the com- 
munity at large have ceased observing it. 

These exceptions, proposed by Ruarez, are inadmissible, at 
least the two first. To authorize disobedience to unjust laws 
is introducing into society an inward principle of destruction. 
All law is supposed to be just, otherwise it is arbitrariness and 
not law. Every man finds always the law that punishes him 
unjust. If there are unjust laws, which is possible, we must 
ask their abrogation ; and, in these our days, the liberty of 
the press is ready to give satisfaction to the need of criticism ; 
but, in the meantime, we must obey. The second exception 
is not tenable either. To say that it is permitted to disobey 



DUTIES OF CHAEITY AKD SELF-SACEIFICE. 149 

a law when it is too hard, in supposing that the prince only 
made it for an experiment, is to permit the eluding of all 
the laws : for every law is hard for somebody ; and there is, 
besides, no determining the hardness of laws. Such an ap- 
preciation is, moreover, fictitious ; a prince who makes a law 
is supposed a priori to wish it executed : to say that he only 
meant to try us therewith is a wholly gratuitous invention. 
Certainly one may by such conduct succeed in wearing a law 
out when the prince is feeble ; but it is not the less unjust, 
and no State could resist such a cause of dissolution. As to 
the third exception, it can be admitted that there are laws 
fallen into disuse, and which are no longer applied by any one 
because they stand in contradiction to the manners, and are 
no longer of any use ; but, except in such case, it is nowise per- 
mitted to say that it is sufficient for the majority to disobey 
to entitle the minority to do the same. For instance, if it 
pleased the majority to engage in smuggling, or to make false 
declarations in the matter of taxes, it would nowise acquit the 
good citizens from continuing to fulfill their duty. 

Xow, if it is an absolute duty to obey a law, we must, at 
the same time, admit as a corrective, the right of criticising 
the law. This right is the right of the minority, and it is 
recognized to-day in all civilized countries. A law may, in 
fact, be unjust or erroneous : it may have been introduced by 
passion, by party-spirit ; even Avithout having been originally 
unjust, it may have become so in time tlirough change in 
manners; it may also be the work of ignorance, prejudice, etc. ; 
and thereby hurtful. Hence the necessity of what is called 
the liherty of tlie press, the inviolable guaranty of the minori- 
ties. But the right of criticising the law is not the right of 
insulting it. Discussion is not insult. Every law is entitled 
to respect because it is a law ; it is the expression of the 
public reason, the public will, of sovereignty. One may try 
to persuade the sovereign by reasoning, and induce him to 
change the law ; one should not inspire contempt which leads 
unavoidably to disobedience. 



150 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

87. Respect for magistrates.— Another duty, which is 
the corollary to obedience to the laws, is the resjped for the 
magistrate. The magistrate — that is, the functionary, whoever 
he be, in charge of the execution of the laws — should be obej^ed, 
not only because he represents force, but also because he is the 
expression of the law. For this reason, he should be for all 
an object of respect. The person is nothing ; it is the 
authority itself that is entitled to respect, and not such or 
such an individual. Many ignorant persons are always dis- 
posed to regard the functionary as a tyrant, and every act of 
authority, an act of oppression. This is a puerile and lament- 
able prejudice. The greatest oppression is always that of in- 
dividual passions, and the most dangerous of despotisms is an- 
archy : for then it is the right of the strongest which alone 
predominates. Authority, whatever it be, makes the mainten- 
ance of order its special interest, and order is the guaranty of 
every one. The magistrate is, moreover, entitled to respect, as 
he represents the country ; if the country be a family, the 
authority of the magistrate shoidd be regarded the same as 
that of the head of the family, an authority entitled to respect 
even in its errors. 

88. The ballot. — Of all the special obligations which we 
have enumerated, the most important to point out is that of the 
^f^ZZo^, because it is free and left entirely at the will of the citizens. 

In regard to the other obligations, constraint may, up to a 
certain point, supply the good will ; he who does not pay his 
taxes from a sense of duty, is obliged to pay them from neces- 
sity ; but the ballot is free ; one may vote or not vote ; one may 
vote for whom he pleases : there is no other restraint than 
the sense of duty ; for this reason, it is necessary to insist on 
tliis kind of obligation. 

1. It is a duty to vote. What in fact the law demands, in 
granting to the citizens the right of suffrage, is that the will 
of the cttizens be made manifest, and that the decisions about 
to be taken, be those of the majority. This principle of the 
right of the majorities has often been questioned : for, it is 



DUTIES OF CHAKITT AHD SELF-SACRITICE. 151 

said, why might not the majority be mistaken 1 Certainly, but 
why might not the minority be also mistaken ? The majority 
is a rule which puts an end to disputes and forestalls the 
appeal to force. The minorities certainly may have cause for 
complaint, for no rule is absolutely perfect ; but they have the 
chance of becoming majorities in their turn. This is seen in 
all free States, where the majority is constantly being modified 
with the time. If such is the principle of elective governments 
(whatever be the measure or extension of the electoral right), 
it can be seen of what importance it is that the true majority 
show itself; and this can only take place through the greatest 
possible number of voters. If, for example, half of the citi- 
zens abstain, and that of the half that vote, one-half alone, 
plus one, constitute the majority, it follows that it is a fourth 
of the citizens that make the law ; which would seem to be 
reversing the principle of majorities. This is certainly not 
absolutely unjust, for it may be said that those who do not 
vote admit implicitly the result obtained ; but this negative 
compliance has not the same value as a positive compliance. 

To abstain from voting may have two causes : either indif- 
ference, or ignorance of the questions propounded, and conse- 
quently the impossibility of deciding one way or another. In 
the first case, especially is the abstaining culpable. No citi- 
zen has the right to be indifferent to public affairs. Skepti- 
cism in this matter is want of patriotism. In the second case, 
the question is a more delicate one. How can I vote ? it may 
be said. I understand nothing about the question ; I have 
no opinion ; I have no preference as to candidates. To com- 
bat this evil, it is, of course, necessary that education gain a 
larger development, and that liberty enter into customs and 
manners. There will be seen then a greater and greater num- 
ber of citizens understandingly interested in public afflxirs. 
But even in the present state of things, a man may still fulfill 
his duty in consulting enlightened men, in choosing some one 
in whom he may have confidence ; in short, in making every 
effort to gain information. 



152 ELEMEISfTS OF MORALS. 

2. The vote should be disinterested. The question here is 
not only one concerning the venality of the vote, which is a 
shameful act, punishable, moreover, by the laws ; but it em- 
braces disinterestedness in a wider sense. One should in 
voting consider the interests of the country alone, and in 
nowise, or at least, only secondarily, the interests of localities, 
unless the question be precisely as to those latter interests, 
when voting for municipal officers. 

3. The vote should be free. The electors or representatives 
of an assembly should obey their conscience alone : they should 
repel all pressure, as well that from committees arrogating 
omnipotence, as from the power itself. 

4. In fine, the vote should be enlightened. Each voter should 
gather information touching the matter in hand, the candi- 
dates, their morality, their general fitness for their duty, their 
opinions. In order to vote with knowledge of the facts, one 
must have some education. That, of course, depends on our 
parents ; but what depends on us, is to develop the education 
already obtained ; we must read the papers, but not one 
only, or we may become the slaves of a watch- word and of 
bigoted minds ; we must also gather information from men 
more enlightened, etc. 

89. Taxes. — It is a duty to pay the taxes ; for, without the 
contributions of each citizen, the State would have no budget, 
and could not set the offices it is commissioned with, to work. 

How could justice be rendered, instruction be given, the 
territory be defended, the roads kept up, without money? 
This money, besides, is voted by the representatives of the 
country, elected for that purpose. But if the State is not to 
tax the citizens without their consent and supervision, they in 
their turn should not refuse it their money. Certainly, this 
evil is not much to be feared, for in the absence of good will, 
there is still the constraint which can be brought to bear upon 
refractory citizens. Yet there are still means of defrauding 
the law. The common people believe too readily that to 
deceive the State is not deceiving ; they do not scruple to 



DUTIES OF CHAEITT AKD SELF-SACRIFICE. 153 

make false declarations where declarations are required, to 
pass prohibited goods over the frontier, etc. ; which are so 
many ways of refusing to pay the taxes. 

90. Military service, as are the taxes, is obligatory by 
law, and consequently does not depend on individual choice. 
But it is not enough to do our duty because we are obliged 
to do it ; we must also do it conscientiously and heartily. 

" It is not enough to pay out of one's purse," says a moralist ; * " one 
must also pay with one's person. " Certainly, it is not for any one's 
pleasure that he leaves his parents and friends, his work and habits, to 
go to do military service in barracks, and, if needs be, to fight on the 
frontiers. But who will defend the country in case of attack if it be 
not its young and robust men ? And must they not learn the use of 
arms in order to be eificient on the day Avhen the country shall need 
them ? This is why there are armies. Certainly, it would be a thou- 
sand times better if there were no need of this, if all nations were just 
enough never to make war with each other. But whilst this ideal is being 
realized, the least any one can do is to hold himself in readiness to de- 
fend his liberty, his honor. . . . Thanks to a good army, one not only 
can remain quiet at home, but the humblest citizen is respected wher- 
ever he goes, wherever his interests take him. In looking carefully at 
the matter it can be seen that even in respect to simple interests, the 
time spent in the service of the flag, is nothing in comparison with the 
advantages derived from it. Is it not because others have been there 
before us that we have been enabled to grow up peacefully and happy to 
the age of manhood ? Is it not just that we should take their place and 
in our turn watch over the country ? And Mdien we return, others will 
take our place, and we, in our turn, shall be enabled to raise a family, 
attend to our business, and lead a quiet and contented life. 

Let us add to these judicious remarks that military service 
is a school of discipline, order, obedience, courage, patience, 
and as such, contributes to strengthening the mind and body, 
to developing personality, to forming good citizens. 

The principal infractions of the duty of military service are : 
1, mutilations by which some render themselves improper for 
service ; 2, simulated infirmities by which one tries to escape 
from the obligation ; 3, desertion in times of war, and what 

* Droits et devoirs de riiomme, Henri Marion, Paris, ISSO, p. 67, 



154 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 

is more criminal still, passing over to the enemy ; 4, insuhor- 
dination or disobedience to superiors. 

This latter vice is the most important to point out, the 
others being more or less rare ; but insubordination is an evil 
most frequent in our armies, and a most dangerous evil. Mil- 
itary operations have become so complicated and difficult in 
these days, that nothing is possible without the strictest 
obedience on the part of soldiers. In times when individual 
valor was almost everything, insubordination might have pre- 
sented fewer inconveniences ; but in these days, all is done 
through masses, and if the men do not obey, the armies are 
necessarily beaten because they cannot oppose an equal force 
to the enemy. Suppose the enemy to be 50,000 men strong 
in a certain place, that you yourself belong to a body of 
50,000, and that you all together reach the same place at the 
same time as the enemy : you are equal in numbers, one 
against one, and you have at least as many chances as they; 
and if, besides, you have other qualities which they have not, 
you will have more chances. But if in the corps you belong 
to, there is no discipline, if every one disobeys — if, for example, 
Avhen the order for marching is given, each starts when he 
pleases, and marches but as he pleases, you wil] arrive too late, 
and the enemy will have taken the best positions ; there is 
then one chance lost. If, moreover, through the disorder in 
your ranks, you do not all arrive together, if there are but 
25,000 men in a line, the otliers remaining behind, these 
25,000 will be overwhelmed. As for those who do not reach 
the spot, think you they will escape the consequences of the 
battle ? By no means ; the disorder wiU not save them ; it 
will deliver them defenseless into the hands of the pursuing 
enemy. Now, all dis()rde^is followed by similar consequences. 
On the other hand, the obedience of the soldier being sure, 
the army is as one man who lends himself to all the plans, all 
the combinations ; who takes advantage of all the happy 
chances, who runs less dangers because the business proceeds 
nnjre rapidly, and tliat with less means one obtains more re- 



DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACRIFICE. 155 

suits. Such are the reasons for the lumctilious disciphne 
required of soldiers. We are treated as machines, you will 
say. Yes ; if you resist : for then constraint becomes indis- 
pensable ; but if you understand the necessity of the disci- 
pline, if you submit to it on your own accord, then are you no 
longer machines : you are men. The only way of not being a 
machine is then precisely to obey freely. 

It has often been asked, in these days, whether the soldier 
is always obliged to obey, even such orders as his conscience 
disapproves of. These are dangerous questions to raise, and 
they tend to imperil discipline without much profit to morality. 
No doubt if a soldier were ordered to commit a crime — as, for 
example, to go and kill a defenseless man — ^he would have the 
right to refuse doing it. At the time of the massacre of St. 
Bartholomew, an order was sent to all the provinces to follow 
the example of Paris. One of the governors, the Viscount 
Orthez, replied that his soldiers did not do executioner's ser- 
vice ; and this answer was admired by all the world. But 
these are very rare cases ; and it is dangerous for such uncer- 
tain eventualities to inspire mistrust against order and disci- 
pline, which are the certain guaranties of the defense and inde- 
pendence of a country. 

91. Educational obligation. — The duty to instruct children 
results from the natural relations between parents and children. 
The obligation to raise children implies, in fact, the obligation 
to instruct them. There is no more education without instruc- 
tion than instruction without education. To-day educational 
obligation is inserted in the law, and has its sanction therein. 
But parents owe it to themselves to obey the law without 
constraint. 

92. Civil courage. — We have already spoken above of 
civil courage as opposed to mihtary courage. But here is the 
place to return to this subject. Let us recall a fine page by 
J. Barni in his book on Morality in Democracy : 

The stoics defined courage admirably : ViHue combating for equity. 
Civil courage might be defined : virtue defending the liberty and rights 



156 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

of citizens against tyranny, whether this tyranny be that of the masses 
or a despot's. As much courage, and perhaps more, is demanded in the 
first case as in the second ; it is less easy to resist a crowd than a single 
man, were there nothing more to be feared than unjJoiJularity, one of 
the disadvantages hardest to brave. How much more difficult when it 
comes to risking a popularity already acquired ? Yet must one, if neces- 
sary, be able to make the sacrifice. True civil courage shows itself the 
same in all cases. Thus, Socrates, this type of civil virtue, as he was 
of all other virtues, refused, at the peril of his life, to obey the iniqui- 
tous orders of the tyrant Critias ; and he resisted with no less courage 
the people, who, contrary to justice and law, asked for the death of the 
generals who conquered at Arginusse. Another name presents itself to 
the memory, namely, that of Boissy d'Anglas, immortalized for the 
heroism he showed as president of the National Convention, the 1st 
Prairial, year II. (20 May, 1795). Assailed by the clamors of the crowd 
which had invaded the Assembly, threatened by the guns which were 
pointed at him, he remains impassible ; and without even appearing to 
be aware of the danger he is running, he reminds the crowd of the re- 
spect due to national representatives. They cry : ' ' We do not Avant 
thy Assembly ; the people is here ; thou art the president of the people ; 
sign, says one, the decree shall be good, or I kill thee ! " He quietly 
replied : ' ' Life to me is a trifle ; you speak of committing a great crime ; 
I am a representative of the people ; I am president of the convention ; " 
and he refused to sign. The head of a representative of the people who 
had just been massacred by the populace for having attempted to pre- 
vent the invasion of the Convention, is presented to him on the end of 
a j)ike ; he salutes it and remains firm at his post. This is a great ex- 
ample of civil courage. 



CHAPTER YIII. 



PEOPESSIONAL DUTIES 



SUMMARY. 

Professional duties : founded on the division of social work. 

The absence of a profession— Leisure. — Is it a duty to have a pro- 
fession ? Rules for the choice of a profession. 

Division of social professions. — Plato's theory ; the Saint Simonian 
theory ; Fichte's theory. Resume and synthesis of these theories. 

Mechanic and industrial professions. — Employers and employees. — 
"Workmen and farmers. 

Military duties. 

Public functions. — Elective functions ; the magistracy and the bar. 

Science. — Teaching. — Medicine. — The arts and letters. 

93. Division of social work. — Independently of the gen- 
eral duties to which, man is held, as man or member of a par- 
ticidar group (family, country), there are still others relating 
to the situation he holds in society, to the part he plays 
therein, to his particular line of work. Society is, in fact, a 
sort of great enterprise where all pursue a common end, 
namely, the greatest happiness or the greatest morality of the 
human species ; but as this end is very complex, it is neces- 
sary that the parts to be played toward reaching it be divided ; 
and, as in industrial pursuits, unity of purpose, rapidity of 
execution, perfection of work, cannot be obtained except by 
division of labor, so is there also in society a sort of social 
division of labor, which allots to each his share of the com- 
mon work. The special work each is appointed to accomplish 



158 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

in society is what is called a profession, and the peculiar duties 
of each profession are the professional duties. 

94. The absence of a profession — Leisure. — The first 
question to be considered is, whether a man should have a 
profession, or if, having received from his family a sufficient 
fortune to live without doing anything, he has a right to dis- 
pense with all profession and give himself up to what is called 
leisure. Some schools have condemned leisure absolutely, 
have denounced what they call idlers as the enemies of society. 
This is a rather delicate question, and concerning which one 
must guard against arriving at a too absolute conclusion. 

And, in the first place, there cannot be question here of approving 
or permitting that sort of foolish and shameful leisure to which some 
young prodigals, without sense of dignity and morality, are given, who 
dissipate in disorder hereditary fortunes, or the wealth obtained by the 
indefatigable labor of their fathers. It is sometimes said that this does 
more good than harm, because fortunes pass thus from hand to hand, 
and each profits by it in his turn. But who does not know that to make 
a good use of a fortune is more profitable to society than dissipation ? 
However that may be, nothing is more unworthy of youth than this 
nameless idleness, Avhere all the strength of the body and soul, the 
energy of character, the life of the intelligence, all the gifts of nature 
are squandered. There have been sometimes seen superior souls who 
rose from such disorders victorious over themselves, and stronger for 
the combat of life. But how rare such examples ! How often does it 
not, on the contrary, happen that the idleness of his youth determines 
the whole course of the man's life ? 

Sometimes, it is true, one may choose a life of leisure designedly, not 
with an idea of dissipation, but, on the contrary, with that of being free 
to do great things. Certain independent minds believe that a profes- 
sion deprives a person of his liberty, narrows him, fastens him down to 
mean and monotonous occupations, suljjects him to conventional and 
narrow modes of thinking — in short, that a positive kind of Avork weak- 
ens and lowers the mind. Tliere is some truth in these remarks. Every- 
body has observed how men of different i)rofessions differ in their mode 
of thinking. What more different than a physician, a man of letters, 
a soldier, a merchant ? All these men thought about the same in their 
youth ; they see each other twenty years later ; each has undergone a 
j)eculiar bent ; each has his ])articular physiof);noniy, costume, etc. Not 
only has the profession absorbed the man, but it has also deadened his 



1»R0FESSI0NAL DUTIES. 159 

individuality. One may conceive, then, how some ambitious minds 
may expect to escape the yoke and preserve their liberty in renouncing 
all professions. To be subject to no fixed and prescribed occupation, 
to depend upon no master, to nobly cultivate the mind in every direc- 
tion, to make vast experiments, to be a stranger to nothing, bound to 
nothing, is not that, seemingly, the height of human happiness ? Some 
men of genius have followed this system, and found no bad results from 
it. Descartes relates to us in his Discours sur la Methode (Part I. ), that, 
during nine years of his life, he did nothing but "roll about the world, 
hither and thither, trying to be a spectator, rather than an actor, in the 
comedies played therein." He tells us further, that he emj^loyed his 
"youth in traveling, in visiting courts and armies, in associating with 
people of various humors and conditions, in gathering divers experi- 
ences, in testing himself in the encounters chance favored him with, 
etc." That this may be an admirable school, a marvelously instructive 
arena for well-endowed minds, no one will doubt ; but what is possible 
and useful to a Descartes or a Pascal, ^\\\\ it suit the majority of men ? 
Is it not to be feared that this wandering in every direction, this habit 
of having nowhere a foot-hold, may make the mind superficial and 
weaken its energy ? 

He who renounces being an actor, to be only a spectator, as did Des- 
cartes, takes too easy a part ; he frees himself from all responsibility : 
this may sharpen the mind, but there will always remain some radical 
deficiency. Force of character, however, and personal superiority may 
set at naught all these conclusions — sound as they in general are in 
theory. * 

It may, therefore, be doubtful whether a life of leisure, 
with some exceptions, be good for him who gives himself up 
to it ; but what is not legitimate, is the kind of jealousy and 
envy which those Avho work often entertain against those who 
have nothing to do. There is a legitimate leisure and nobly 
employed. For example, a legitimate leisure is that which, 
obtained through hereditary fortune, is engaged in gratuitously 
serving the country, in study, in the management of property, 
the cultivation of land, in travels devoted to observation and 
the amelioration of human things, in a noble intercourse with 
society. It is a grievous error to wish to blot out of societies 
all existence that has not gain for its end, and is not connected 

* The preceding quotation is from our Philosophie du bonheur. 



160 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 

with daily wants. Property and riches are true social func- 
tions, and among the most difficult of functions. Those who 
know how to use them with profit, fill one of the most useful 
parts in society, and cannot be said to be without a professioiL 

95. Of the choice of a profession. — If it is necessary in 
society to have a profession, it is important that it be well 
chosen. He who is not in his right place, is wanting in some 
essential quality to fill the one he occupies : 

' ' If the abhe de Carignan had yielded to the wishes of Madame de 
Soissons, his mother, what glory wouhl not the^ house of Savoy have 
been deprived of ! The empire would have been deprived of one of its 
greatest captains, one of the buhvarks of Christianity. Prince Eugene 
was a very great man in the profession they wished to interdict him ; 
what would he have been in the profession they wished him to em- 
brace ? M. de Retz insisted absolutely that his youngest son should be 
an ecclesiastic, despite the repugnance he manifested for this profession, 
despite the scandalous conduct he indulged in to escape from it. This 
duke [M. de Retz] gives to the church a sacrilegious priest, to Paris a 
sanguinary archbishop, to the kingdom a great rebel, and deprives his 
house of the last prop that could have sustained it. " * 

One should, therefore, study his vocation, not decide too 
quickly, get information on the nature and duties of different 
professions ; then consult his taste, but without allowing him- 
self to be carried away by illusory, proud, inconsistent fancies ; 
consult wise and enlightened persons; finally, if necessary, 
make certain experiments, taking care, however, to stop in time. 

96. Division of social professions.— It would be impos- 
sible to make a survey of all the professions society is com- 
posed of : it were an infinite labor. We must, therefore, 
bring the professions down to a certain number of types or 
classes, which alloAv tlie reducing of the rules of profHsmyrial 
morality to a small number. Several philosophers have busied 
themselves in dividing and classifying social occupations. 
We shall recall only the principal ones of these divisions. 

Plato has reduccjd the different social functions to four 

■* Philosophie sociale, Kasai sur los dovoirs <1(! riioiiune et du citoyon, i)ar I'abbd 
DiirosDi (Paris, 1783). 



PKOFESSIONAL DUTIES. 161 

classes, namely: 1, magistrates; 2, warriors-, ?>, farmers ; 
4, artisans. The two first classes are the governing classes ; 
the two others are the classes governed. The two first 
apply themselves to moral things : education, science, the 
defense of the country ; the others to material life. This 
classification of Plato is somewhat too general for our modern 
societies, which comprise more varied and numerous elements : 
these divisions, nevertheless, are important, and should be 
taken account of in morals. 

Since Plato, there is scarcely any but the socialist Saint- 
Simon who attempted to classify the social careers. He 
reduces them to three groups : industrials, artists, and scien- 
tists (savants). The meaning of this classification is this : the 
object of human labor, according to Saint-Simon, is the cultiva- 
tion of the globe — that is to say, the greatest possible produc- 
tion; but this is the object of productive labor; it is what 
is called industry. Now, the cultivation of nature requires a 
knowledge of nature's laws, namely, science. Science and 
invention are, then, the two great branches of social activity. 
According to Saint-Simon, work — that is to say, industry — 
must take the place of war ; science, that of the laws. Hence 
no warriors, no magistrates ; or, rather, the scientists (savants) 
should be the true magistrates. Science and industry, how- 
ever, having only relation to material nature, Saint-Simon 
thought there was a part to be given to the moral order, to the 
beautiful or the good ; hence a third class, which he now calls 
artists, now moralists and philosophers, and to whom a sort of 
religious role is assigned. It will be seen that this theory is 
absolutely artificial and Utopian, that it has relation to an 
imaginary system, and not to the order of things as it is : it is 
an ingenious conception, but quite impracticable. 

One of the greatest of modern moralists, the German phil- 
osopher Fichte, assigned, in his Practical Morality, a part to 
the doctrine of professional duties ; and he began by giving a 
theory of the professions more complete and satisfactory than 
any of the preceding ones. « 



162 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 

Fichte makes of the special professions two great divisions : 
1, those which have for their object the keeping up of mate- 
rial life ; 2, those which have for their object the keeping up 
of intellectual and moral life. On the one side, mechanical 
labor ; on the other, intellectual and moral labor. 

The object of mechanical labor is production, manufa,cture, 
and exchange of produce ; hence three functions :. those of 
producers, manufacturers, and merchants. 

The moral and spiritual labor has also three objects : 1, the 
administration of justice in the State ; 2, the theoretic culture 
of intelligence ; 3, the moral culture of the will. Hence three 
elasses : 1, public functions ; 2, science and instruction ; 
3, the Church and the clergy. Lastly, there is in human 
nature a faculty which serves as a link between the theoretical 
and the practical faculties : it is the esthetic sense ; the sense 
of the beautiful ; hence a last class, that of artists. 

This theory is more scientific than that of the Saint-Simo- 
nians, but it is still somewhat defective ; it is not clear, for 
example, in a moral point of view, that there is a great differ- 
ence of duties between the producers, manufacturers, and mer- 
chants : they are economical rather than moral distinctions. 
Plato's division is better, when he puts the farmers in oppo- 
sition to the artisans. It is certain that there are, es- 
pecially in these days, interesting moral questions, which differ 
according as the workmen live in the city or in the country. 
We therefore prefer on this point Plato's division ; and we 
will treat, on the one side, industry and commerce, and on the 
other agriculture; and in each of these divisions we will dis- 
tinguish those Avho direct or remunerate the work, namely, 
contractors, masters, proprietors, capitalists in some degree, 
and those who work Avith their hands and receive wages. 

In characterizing the second class of careers, those which 
have moral interests for their objectj we will again borrow of 
Plato one of the names of his division, namely, the defense of 
tlte State. As to the administration of justice in the State, it 
is divided, as we have already said, into three powers : the 



PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 163 

executive, legislative, and judicial powers. Hence three orders 
of functions : administration, depidation, and the magistracy, 
with which latter is connected the ba7\ 

As to science, it is either sj^ecidative or practical. 

In the first case, it only concerns the individual ; we have 
spoken of it under individual duties (ch. iv.). In the second 
case, it has for its object application, and bears either on 
things or on men. 

Applied to things, science is associated with the industry 
we have already spoken of. Applied to men, it is medicine, 
in respect to bodies ; morality or religion, in respect to hearts 
and souls. 

Lastly, along with the sciences which seek the true, there 
are the letters and the arts which treat of and produce the 
beautiful. Hence a last class, namely, poets, writers, artists. 

Such is about the outline of what a system of social pro- 
fessions might be. A treatise of professional morality which 
would be in harmony with this outline, would be all one 
science, the elements of which scarcely exist, being dispersed 
in a multitude of works, or rather in the practice and interior 
life of each profession. We will content ourselves with a few 
general indications. 

97. I. Mechanical and industrial professions. — 1. Em- 
ployers and employees. — The professions which have for their 
object the material cultivation of the globe, and particularly 
industry and commerce, are divided into two great classes : 1, 
on one side, those who, having capital, undertal-e and direct 
the works ; 2, those who execute them with their arms and 
receive wages. The first are the employers ; the second the 
employees. What are the respective duties of these two 
classes 1 

98. Duties of employers. — The duties of all those who, 
by virtue of their capital legitimately acquired, or by virtue 
of their intelligence, command, direct and pay for the work 
done by men, are the following : 

1. They should raise the wages of the workmen as high as 



164 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

the state of the market permits ; and they should not wait to 
be compelled to it by strikes or threats of strikes. Conversely, 
they should not, from weakness or want of foresight, yield to 
every threat of the kind ; for in raising the wages unreason- 
ably high, one may disable himself from entering into foreign 
competition, or may cause the ruin of the humbler manufac- 
turers who have not sufficient capital. 

2. Capitalists, employers and masters should obey strictly 
the laws established for the protection of childhood. They 
should employ the work of minors within proper limits, and 
according to the conditions fixed by the law. 

3. Their task is not done when they have secured to the 
workmen and their children the share of work and wages 
which is their due, even when they are content to claim noth- 
ing beyond justice. They have yet to fulfill toward their sub- 
ordinates the duties of protection and benevolence ; they 
must assist them, relieve them, be it in accidents happening 
to them in the work they are engaged in, or in illness. They 
must spare them suspensions of work as much as possible ; in 
short, they must, through all sorts of establishments — schools, 
mutual-help societies, workmen-cities incites oiivrieres), etc. — 
encourage education, economy, property, yet without forcing 
upon them anything that would diminish their own responsi- 
bility or impair their personal dignity. 

99. Duties of workingmen. — The duties of workingmen 
should corrGSi)()nd to those of the employers. 

1. The workingmen owe it to themselves not to cherish in 
their hearts feelings of hatred, envy, covetousness, and revolt 
against the employers. Division of work requires that in in- 
dustrial matters some should direct and others be directed. 
Material exploitation requires capital; and those who bring 
tliis capital, the fruit of former work, are as necessary to the 
workingmen to utilize their work as these are to the first 
in utilizing tlioir capital. 

2. The workingmen owe their work to tlic establishment 
which pays them ; it is as much their interest as their duty. 



PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 165 

The result of lazi ne.$s,&.nd intemperance is misery. We cannot 
enough deplore the use of what is called the Mondays — a day 
of rest over and beyond the legitimate and necessary Sunday. 
It is certain that one day of rest in a week is absolutel}' a 
necessity. Xo man can nor ought (except in circumstances 
unavoidable) work ^\dthout interruption the whole year through. 
But the week's day of rest once secure, all that is over and 
above that, is taken from what belongs to the family and the 
provisions against old age. 

3. Supposing that, in consequence of the progress of in- 
dustry, the number of hours of rest could be increased — that, 
for example, the hours of the day's work could be reduced — 
these hours of rest should then be devoted to the family, to 
the cultivation of the mind, and not to the fatal pleasures of 
intoxication. 

The workingmen have certainly a right to ask, as far as 
they are worthy of it, equality of consideration and influence 
in society ; and all our modern laws are so constituted as to 
insure them this equahty. It rests with them, therefore, to 
render themselves worthy of tliis new equality by their morals 
and their education. To have their children educated; to 
educate themselves ; to occupy their leisure with family inter- 
ests, in reading, in innocent and elevating recreations (music, 
the theatre, gardening, if possible), it is by all such pursuits 
that the workingmen will reduce or entirely remove the in- 
ecjuahty of manners and education wliich may still exist be- 
tween them and their superiors. 

4. Workingmen cannot be blamed for seeking to defend 
their interests and increase their comforts ; in so doing they 
only do what all men should do. They have also the right, 
in order to get satisfaction, to attach to their work such con- 
ditions as they may reasonably desire : it is the law of de- 
mand and supply, common to aU industries. In short, as an 
individual refusal to work is a means absolutely inefficacious 
to bring about an increase of wages, it must be admitted that 
the workingmen have a risrht to act in concert and collect- 



166 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

ively to refuse to work, and, collectivel;^to make their con- 
ditions ; hence the right of strikes recognized to-day by the 
law. But tliis right, granted to the principle of the hberty of 
work, must not be turned against this principle. The work- 
ingmen who freely refuse to work should not stand in the 
way of those who, finding their demands ill-founded, persist 
in continuing to work under the existing conditions. All 
violence, all threats to force into the strike him who is opposed 
thereto, is an injustice and a tjTanny. This ^dolence is con- 
demned by law ; but as it is easily disguised, it cannot always 
be reached ; it is, therefore, tlirough the morals one must act 
upon it — through persuasion and education. The workmen 
must gradually adopt the morals of liberty, must respect each 
other. For the same reason they should respect women's 
work ; should not interdict to their wives and daughters the 
right of improving their condition by work. Unquestionably 
it is much to be desired that woman should become more and 
more centred in domestic duties, the care of her household and 
family. This is her principal part in the social work. But 
as long as the imperfect condition of the laboring classes does 
not permit this state of things, it may be said that the work- 
men Avork against themselves in trying to close the held of 
industry to women. 

The tendency toward the equality of wages, as the ideal of 
the remuneration of work, is also to be condemned. Nothing 
is more contrary to the spirit of the times, which demands 
that every one be treated according to his Avork. Capacity, 
painstaking, personal efforts, are elements that demand to be 
proportionately remunerated. Let us add, that it is the duty 
of head masters, in the case of a good will, succumbing to 
physical inability, to conciliate benevolence and equity with 
justice ; this, however, is only an exceptional case. But, as a 
principle, each one should be rewarded only for Avhat he has 
done. Otherwise there would be an inducement to indiffer- 
ence and idleness. 

100. Workmen and farmers. — Having considered work- 



PEOFESSIOXAL DUTIES. 167 

men in their relations with, their masters, let lis consider them 
now on a line with farmers ; for, according as one Uves in the 
city or in the country, there is a great difference in manners, 
cind consequently in duties. The workmen who live in the 
city are for that very reason more apt to acc|uire new ideas 
and general information ; they have many more means of 
educating themselves ; the very pleasures of the city afford 
them opportunities to cultivate their mind. Besides, living 
nearer to each other, they are more disposed to consider their 
common interests and turn them to account. Hence advan- 
tages and disadvantages. The advantages are, the superiority 
of intellectual culture, the greater aptitude in conceiving gen- 
eral ideaSy a stronger interest in public affairs ; in all these 
respects, city-life presents advantages over country-life. But 
hence also arise great dangers. The workingmen, quite ready 
to admit general ideas, but without sufficient information and 
poKtical experience to control them, abandon themselves 
readily to Utopian preachings and instigations to revolt. 
Further, very much preoccupied with their common interests, 
they are too much disposed to think only of their own class, 
and to form, as it were, a class apart in society and in the 
nation. Hence for the workmen a double duty : 1, to obtain 
enough information not to blindly follow aU demagogues ; 
2, to learn t^ consider their interests as connected with all 
those of the other classes and professions. 

Farmers are indebted to the country-life for certain advan- 
tages, which carry with them, at the same time, certain dis- 
advantages. The farmer is generally more attached to social 
stability than the more or less shifting inhabitants of the 
towns : he thinks much of property ; he does not like to 
change in his manners and ideas. He is thereby a powerful 
support to conservatism and the spirit of tradition, without 
which society could not live and last. He has, moreover, had 
till now the great merit of not singling himself out, of not 
separating his interests from those of the country in general. 
Thus, on these two points — opposition to Utopias, preservation 



168 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

of social unity — the countryman serves as a counterpoise to all 
the opposite tendencies in the workmen. But these very 
qualities are, perhaps, the result of certain defects : namely, 
the absence of information and enlightenment. The country- 
man sees not very much beyond his church-steeple ; material 
life occupies and absorbs him wholly ; individual and personal 
interests are absolutely predominant in him. He is but little 
disposed to give his children any education ; and he is dis- 
posed to look upon them as so many instruments of work less 
expensive than others. The idea of a general country, general 
interests surpassing private interests, is more or less wanting 
in him. What it is necessary to persuade the countryman of, 
is the usefulness of education. He should be inspired with a 
taste for liberty, which is a security to him and his family, as 
well as to all the other classes of society. The workman in 
becoming better informed, the farmer more informed, they 
will gradually blend with the middle classes, and there will 
then be no longer those oppositions of classes and interests so 
dangerous at the present day. (See Appendix,,) 

101. II- Military duties. — We have already considered 
military duties, as the duty of citizens toward the State ; we 
have now to consider here military duties in themselves, as 
special duties, peculiar to a certain class of citizens, to a certain 
social profession. 

1. It is useless to say that the peculiar virtue and special 
duty of the military class is courage. We have but to refer 
the reader to what will be said further on (ch. xiv.), touching 
the virtue of courage, in regard to the duties of man toward 
himself. 

2. Patriotism is a duty of all classes and all professions ; 
but it is particularly one with those who are commissioned to 
defend the country : it is, therefore, the military virtue par 
excellence. 

3. Fidelity to the flag.—T\\\?> duty is implied in the two 
precetling ones. The duty of courage, in fact, implies that 
one Pliould not flee before the enemy : it is the crime of deser- 



PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 169 

tion ; that one should not pass over to the enemy : it is the 
crime of defection or treason. This latter crime has become 
very rare, and has even wholly disappeared in modern France. 
Formerly there was seen a Conde, the great Conde fighting 
against the French at the head of Spanish troops ; and so 
great a fault scarcely injured his reputation ; in our days, a 
simple suspicion, and that an unjust one, blackened the whole 
life of a Marshal of France."^ 

4. Obedience and discipline. (See above, Duties toward 
tlv^ State, preceding chapter.) 

102. III. Public functions— Administration — Deputation 
— Magistracy — The Bar. — The public functions are the divers 
acts which compose the government of a State. We even 
include the elective functions (deputation, general councils, 
town councils, etc.), because, whilst they have their origin in 
election, they are, nevertheless, functions, the purpose of 
which is the common loeal, public interests. For the same 
reason, though the bar is a free profession, it is so con- 
nected with magistracy, it is so necessary a dependency of 
the judicial power, that it is thereby itself a sort of public 
power. 

103. Functionaries. — We call functionaries, more particu- 
larly, those who take part in the administration of the country 
and the execution of its laws. This admitted, the principal 
duties of functionaries are : 

1. The Knoivledge of the laws they are commissioned to exe- 
cute. Power is only legitimate as far as it is guaranteed by com- 
petency. Ignorance in public functions has for its results 
injustice, since arbitrariness takes then the place of the law ; 
administrative disorder, since the law has precisely for its 
object to establish rules and maintain traditions ; negligence, 
since ignorant of the principles by which affairs ought to be 
settled, conclusions are kept off as much as possible. But one 
must not defer obtaining administrative information till called 

* Marshal Marmont was accused of treason for having accepted the capitulation 
of Essonne, which was perhaps imposed upon him by necessity. 

8 



170 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

to take a share in the administration. A general information 
should be acquired beforehand ; for, once engaged in adminis- 
trative affairs, there is then no longer time to acquire it. 

To go to loork is, therefore, the first duty of those who 
would be prepared for public functions ; and this duty of work 
continues with the functions ; for after general information 
has been obtained, comes the special and technical informa- 
tion, where there is always something new to learn. 

2. The second duty of functionaries of any degree, is exac- 
titude and assiduity. The most brilliant qualities, and the 
largest and amplest mind for public affairs, will render but 
inefficient service — at any rate, a service very inferior to what 
could be expected of them, if these qualities are counterbal- 
anced and paralyzed by negligence, laziness, disorder, inexact- 
ness. One must not forget that all negligence in public 
affairs is a denial of justice to some one. An administrative 
decision, whatever it be, has always for its result to satisfy 
the just, or to deny the unjust, claims of some one. To retard 
a case through negligence, may therefore deprive some one of 
what he has a right to. There are, of course, necessary delays 
which arise from the complication of affairs, and order itself 
requires that everything come in time ; but delays occasioned 
by our own fault are a wrong toward others. 

3. Integrity and discretion are also among the most impor- 
tant duties of functionaries. The first bears especially upon 
what concerns finances ; but there are everywhere more or 
less opportunities to fail in probity. For example, there is 
nothing more shameful than to sell one's influence ; this is 
what is called extortion. An administrator given to extortion 
is the shame and ruin of the State. As to discretion, it is 
again a duty which depends on the nature of tilings. It is 
especially obligatory when persons are in question, and still 
more so in certain careers — as, for example, in diplomacT/. 

4. Justice. — The strict duty of every administrator or func- 
tionary, is to have no other rule than the law; to avoid 
arbitrariness and favor, to have no regard to persons. This 



« 
PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 171 

duty, it must be said, whilst it is the most necessary, is also 
the most difficult to exercise, and one which requires most 
courage and will. Public opinion, unfortunately, encourages 
in this respect, the weaknesses of officials ; it is convinced, 
and spreads everywhere this conviction, that all is due to 
favoritism, that it is not the most deserving that succeed, but 
the best recommended. Everybody complains of it, and every- 
body helps toward it. There is unquestionably much exag- 
geration in these complaints. Favor is not everything in this 
world. It is too much the interest of administrators that they 
should have industrious and intelligent assistants, and that they 
should employ every means to choose them well ; and in public 
affairs, the interests of the common weal always predominate 
in the end. It is, nevertheless, an evil that so unfavorable a 
prejudice should exist ; and it is absolutely a duty with func- 
tionaries to uproot it, in showing it to be false. 

104. Elective functions— Deputation — Elective councils. 
—There is a whole class of functionaries, if it be permitted to 
say so, who owe their origin to election, and who are the man- 
dataries of the people, either in municipal councils, or in gen- 
eral councils, or in the great elective bodies of the State, the 
Senate and House of Representatives. (See Civil instruction.) 
The principle of the sovereignty of the people requires that 
for all its interests, communal, departmental or national, the 
country have a deliberative voice by means of its representa- 
tives. The duties of these mandataries are generally the same 
in any degree of rank. 

1. Fidelity to the mandate. — The representative is the in- 
terpreter of certain opinions, of certain tendencies, and al- 
though the majority which have elected him comprise very 
diverse elements, there exists an average of opinions, and it is 
this average which the deputy represents, or should represent. 
He would, therefore, fail in his duty if, once elected, he passed 
over to his opponents, or, if wishing to do so, he did not ten- 
der his resignation. However, this fidelity to the mandate 
should not be carried so far as to accept what is called the im- 



172 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. 

perative mandate, which is the negation of all liberty in the 
representative, and makes of him a simple voting machine. 
The representative is a representative precisely because he is 
empowered, on his own responsibility, to find the best means 
to carry out the wivshes of his constituents. 

2. Independence. — The deputy, senator, municipal, or de- 
partmental officer should be independent both in regard to 
the authorities and in regard to the electors. From the au- 
thorities he should receive no favors ; he should not sell his 
vote in any interest whatsoever ; from 'the electors he has to 
receive advice only, but no orders. Outside their office as 
electors, the electors are nothing but simple individuals. As 
such they may try to influence representatives, but they have 
otherwise no other title before the representatives of the elect- 
oral corps. The representative should, above all, avoid mak- 
ing himself the servant of the electors, for the satisfaction of 
their private interests and passions. It is often thought that 
independence only consists in resisting courts and princes; 
there is no less independence, and sometimes even is there 
more merit and courage required to resist the tyranny of 
the masses, and especially that of popular leaders. The 
deputy should, we have said, be faithful to his trust — that 
is to say, to the general line of politics adopted by the 
political party to which he belongs ; but within these general 
limits it is for him to assume the responsibility, for it is 
for this very reason that he is elected a representative. 
Let us, moreover, add that fidelity to opinions should not 
degenerate into party spirit, and that there is an interest 
which should supersede all others, namely, the interest of the 
country. 

3. The spirit of conciliation and the spirit of discipline. — 
Political liberty, more than any other political principle, re- 
quires the spirit of concession. If each, indexed, fortifies him- 
self in his own opinions, without ever making a concession, 
all having the right to do the same, it is evident that no com- 
mon conclusion can be arrived at. The consequence of the 



PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 173 

liberum veto* pushed to excess, is paralysis of power or 
anarchy, Xothing is done ; and in politics, when nothing is 
done, all becomes disorganized, dissolved. It is, therefore, 
necessary that whilst preserving their independence, the rep- 
resentatives sent forth by the electors should endeavor to ren- 
der government possible ; they should not overstep the limits 
of their trust by confounding legislative power with executive 
power ; they should try to harmonize with the other bodies of 
the State — in short, they ought each to sacrifice the necessary 
amount of their individual opinion to bring about a common 
opinion. In a free government it is no more a duty to belong 
to the majority than to the opposition, since the opposition 
may, in its turn, become majority ; but whether belonging to 
the one or to the other, the representative should subordinate his 
particular views to the common interest ; otherwise the parties 
scatter, which, in the long run, can only be profitable to des- 
potism. 

105. Judicial power. — The magistracy and the bar. — 
The judicial power is exercised by magistrates called ,yW^e->^' 
it is they who decide about quarrels between individuals : 
this is what is called civil justice ; they also decide about the 
punishments inflicted on criminals who have made attempts 
upon a life or property ; and this is penal justice. The 
duties of the magistrate are easily deduced from these obliga- 
tions. 

1. Impartiality and neutrality. — The judge must neces- 
sarily remain neutral among all parties ; he should have no 
regard to persons, should render equal justice to the rich and 
to the poor, to the high and to the low. Equality hefore the 
law, which is one of the principles of our modern institutions, 
should not only be a principle in the abstract ; it should also 
be a practical principle, and be brought before the eyes of the 
judges as one among the first of their obligations. 



♦ The liberum veto in Poland was the right of each representative to oppose the 
veto of the laws which were voted unanimouslv. 



174 



ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 



2. Integrihj and disinterestedness. — Xo less strict a duty for 
the judges, and which it is scarcely necessary to point out, is 
integrity. The magistrate should be free from all suspicion 
of venality. Under the old regime, as may be seen in 
Racine's comedy of The Pleaders, the judges were not 
always free from such suspicion. Of course, it is but a 
comedy ; but such a comedy could no longer be written now- 
adays ; it would no longer be understood ; our morals are too 
much improved for that. The obligation should, neverthe- 
less, be pointed out. 

3. Impartiality and integrity concern above all civil justice. 
The duty which more especially concerns criminal justice, is 
equity ; namely, a moderate justice, intermediary between a 
dangerous lenity and an excessive severity. In truth, in most 
cases, at least in the graver cases, the judge has scarcely any- 
thing more to do than to apply the law. It is for the jury, a 
sort of free and irresponsible magistracy, to decide upon the 
culpability or innocence of the prisoners. It is for the jury 
to find a just medium between harshness and lenity. But the 
juryman who, above all, judges as a man, and often recoils 
from responsibility, should fear the excess of lenity : the judge, 
on the contrary, accustomed to repression, and above all pre- 
occupied with the interests of society, should rather defend 
himself against excess of rigor and severity. 

4. Knowledge. — What is for most men but a luxury, be- 
comes in such or such a profession a strict duty. The 
knowledge of the Urns, for example, is, for the magistrate, as 
the knowledge of the human body for the physician, a strict 
obligation. He who wishes to enter the magistracy, should 
therefore carry the study of the law as far as his youth permits 
it ; but he should not stop his studies the moment he has 
entered upon liis career. He has always something to learn ; 
he sliould keep himself informed of the progress jurisprudence 
is making. Tt is useless to say tliat, independently of this 
general work, the s[)e(;ial and thorough st\uly of each case 
brought before him is for the judge a duty still more strict. 



PROFESSlO>s'AL DUTIES. 175 

Alongside of the magistracy, and co-operating witli it, is 
placed the bar, which is charged with the defense of private 
interests from a civil or criminal point of view. 

From a civil point of view, the trial is between two citizens, 
each claiming his right in the case; they are what is called 
plerAclers, and the trial itself is called a law-suit. The pleaders, 
not knowing the laws, need an intermediary to explain and 
defend their cause, bring it clearly to the comprehension of the 
magistrates and enforce its reasons. This is the part of the 
lawyers. 

From a criminal point of view, the trial is not between two 
individuals ; but between society and the criminal. Society, 
to defend itself, employs what is called a public prosecutor ; 
the criminal needs a counsel. The part of a counsel belongs 
again to the lawyers. 

The duties of lawyers are varied according as the cases are 
civil or criminal cases. 

In civil law-suits, the absolute duty is the following : not 
to take up bad cases. Only it is necessary to understand well 
tliis principle. It is generally believed that a bad case is the 
losing one, and a good case the winning one. Thus would 
there in every law-suit be a lawyer who failed in his duty : the 
one, namely, who lost the case. This is a false idea, which very 
unjustly throws in many minds discredit upon the profession 
of the law. 

Certainly there are cases where the law is so clear, juris- 
prudence so established, the morality so evident and imperious, 
that a suit having the three against itself, may be called a 
bad case ; and the lawyer who can allow his client to believe 
the suit defensible, and who employs liis skill and eloquence 
in defending it, fails in his professional duty. But this is not 
generally the case. In most cases, it is very difficult to tell 
beforehand who is right, who wrong, and precisely because it 
is difficult, are there judges whose proper function it is to de- 
cide. Xow, in order that the judge may decide, he must be 
acquainted with all the details of the case ; all possible reasons 



176 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. 

from both sides must be laid before him. Everybody knows 
that one can never of one's own account find in favor of a 
solution or conclusion, all the reasons which the interested 
party can ; now, it is just that these reasons be set forth : 
this is the business of the lawyers. One must not forget that 
in every law-suit there is a pro and a con. It is for this very 
reason there is a suit. The lawyers are specially here to plead 
for the pro and con, each from his own standpoint. One 
could very well understand, for example, that the court should 
have at its disposal functionaries commissioned to prepare 
the cases and plead for the contending parties: one would 
take up Peter's cause, the other, Paul's ; this is just the part 
of the lawyers, with this difference, that the choice of the 
lawyer is left to the client, because it is but just that a deputy 
be chosen by him he is supposed to represent. 

In criminal cases there are equally very delicate questions. 
How can a lawyer defend as innocent one who is guilty? 
Were it not an actual lie ? And yet society does not allow 
that any accused, whoever he be, be left without counsel ; and 
when none present themselves, it provides one, charging him 
to save the life of the accused if he can. It is the interest of 
society that no innocent person be condemned, and that even 
the guilty should not be punished beyond what he deserves ; 
in short, it takes care that all the reasons that can be brought 
forth to attenuate the gravity of an offense be well weighed, 
and even set forth in a manner to arouse pity and sympathy. 
Such is the business of the lawyers. 

It is evident that these considerations, which show the 
lawyer's profession to be one so legitimate and exalted, should 
not be improperly understood. These general rules must be 
interprcited with dcHcacy of feeling and conscience. 

106. IV. Science — Teaching — Medicine— The letters 
and arts. — Beside the 80C'/(d powers which make, execute and 
((j)!)!;/ tlie laws, there is science, which instructs men, en- 
lightens them, directs their work, and whicli even, setting 
utility aside, is yet in itself an object of disinterested research. 



J»E0FESSI0KAL DUTIES. 177 

Side by side with the sciences are the letters and arts, which 
pursue and express the heautiful, as science pursues the true. 
Finally, to science and art are added morality and religion, 
whose object is the good. The moralists, it is true, do not 
constitute a particular profession in society, or at least their 
part is blended with teaching in general ; religion has its in- 
terpreters, who find in their dogmas and traditions the rules 
of their duties. It is not the business of lay morality to teach 
these. Let us, therefore, content ourselves with a few prin- 
ciples concerning the sciences and letters. 

107. Science — Duties of Scientists. — Science may be 
cultivated in two different ways and from two different stand- 
points : 1, for itself ; 2, for its social advantages — for the ser- 
vices it renders to men. There is but a small number of men 
who have a natural taste for pure science, and the leisure to 
give themselves up to the love of it ; but those who choose 
such a life contract thereby certain duties. 

The first of all is the love of truth. The only object for the 
scientist to pursue is truth. He must, therefore, lay aside all 
interests and passions antagonistic to truth ; and, above all, 
personal interest which inclines one to prefer one theme to 
another, because of the advantages it may bring ; this is, how- 
ever, so gross a motive, that it would not be supposed to exist 
with a true scholar ; yet are there other causes of error no less 
dangerous — for example, the interest of a cause — of a convic- 
tion which is dear to us ; the interest of our self-love, which 
makes us persist in error known to be such ; the spirit of sys- 
tem, by which one shows his peculiar forte, etc. All these 
passions should give way before the pure love of truth. 

108. The communication of science— Teaching.— The 
principal duty of those who are possessed of science is to com- 
municate it to other men. Certainly, all men are not called 
to be scholars ; but all should in some degree have their intelli- 
gence cultivated by instruction. Hence the duty of teaching im- 
posed upon scholars ; but this duty brings with it many otliers. 

1. The masters who t(^ixch others should themselves first be 



178 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

educated. Hence the duty of intellectual work, not merely to 
acquire knowledge, Avitliout wliicli one cannot be a teacher, 
but to preserve and increase it. The teacher should, there- 
fore, set an example to his pupil of assiduous and continuous 
intellectual work. 

2. The teacher should love his pupils — children, if he is 
called upon to teach children ; young men, if he is to address 
young men. The teacher should not only think of the science 
he teaches, but of the fruits his pupils are to reap from it ; 
one can only be interested in what he loves. A teacher in- 
different toward the young, will never make the necessary 
effort to lead and educate them. 

3. The teacher, in teaching, should unite in a just measure 
discipline and Uhey^ty. Instruction naturally presupposes one 
that knows and one that does not know ; and it is necessary 
that the one should direct the other ; hence the necessity of 
discipline. But the purpose of instruction is to teach to do 
without the master — to be one's own master in thought and 
conduct ; hence the necessity of liberty. This liberty should 
grow along with the instruction, and, of course, proportionately 
to age ; but, at any age, one should take advantage of the 
faculties of a child, and make it as much as possible find out 
by itself what is within its reach. 

4. The teacher should not separate iristrudion from educa- 
tion. He should not only communicate knowledge — he should 
above all form men, characters, wills. Instruction is, besides, 
ah'cady in itself an education. Can one instruct without ac- 
customing young minds to work, to obedience, to correct 
habits of thought ; without putting into their hands good 
IxDoks ; without giving them good examples 1 It is most true 
tl\at one does not form men with pure and abstract science 
alon(!, — it is necessary to add the letters, history, morality, 
religion. The t(!acher, besides, should study the character of 
his ])U])ils, sliould, through work and moral and ))hysical exer- 
cises, put down })resuni])tion, correct unmanliness, combat 
sellishness, anticipate or restrain the passions. 



PEOFESSIOis'AL DUTIES. 179 

109. Applied science — Industry — Medicine. — Science 
may tiud its application in two ways, either to tilings, or to men. 
Applied to things, it is called industrij ; applied to men, medi- 
cine. There are no special duties concerning industrial pursuits. 
Engineers, private or in the service of the State, employed in 
civil or military works, have no other duties then the general 
duties of functionaries, military-men, employees, etc. It is 
not the same Avitli medicine. There are here obligations of a 
special and graver nature. 

110. Duties of the physician— His knowledge. — Knowl- 
edge is an obHgation in every profession ; everywhere it is in- 
dispensable to know the thing one is engaged in; but, in 
medicine, ignorance is of a much more serious character : for 
it may end in manslaughter. How can any one attend the 
sick if he knows nothing of the human body ; if he is ignorant 
of the s}Tnptoms of a disease ? He has, it is true, the resource 
of doing nothing ; but might not this also be manslaughter ? 
Does he not then take the place of him who knows and might 
save the patient ? 

2. Secrecy. — The physician is above all held to secrecy. 
He must not make known the diseases which have been 
revealed to him. This is what is called mediccd secrecy. This 
obligation may in certain cases give rise to the most serious 
troubles of conscience; but, as a principle, it may be said that 
secrecy is as absolute a duty for the physician as it is for the 
father-confessor. 

3. Courage. — The physician, we have seen, has liis ^oint 
d'honnefiir, like the military -man ; he often runs equally great 
dangers : he must, if necessary, devote himself and risk his 
life. He requires also a great moral courage, when he is 
brought before a serious illness where, at the moment of a 
dangerous operation, when his hand must be as firm as his 
mind, he needs all the self-possession he can command. 

4. Duties toward the sick : Kindness and severity. — The 
physician should be firm in the treatment of his patients ; he 
should insist that his prescriptions be unconditionally fol- 



180 lELEMENtS OF MORALS. 

lowed, for his responsibility rests on this : he should rather 
give up the case than consent to a dangerous disobedience. 
At the same time he must encourage the patient, raise his 
strength by inspiring him with confidence, which is half the 
cure. He must also, without deceiving it, uphold the courage 
of the family. In some cases it may be necessary to tell the 
patient the danger he is in. 

III. Writers and artists. — The morality of writers and 
artists is, as in all the preceding cases, determined by the object 
these persons devote their lives to. The object of the writer 
and artist is the realization of the beautiful, either in speech 
or writing (literature), or through color and lines (painting, 
sculpture), or tlijough sound (music). In all these arts, the 
leading thought should be the interests of the art one is culti- 
vating. One should as much as possible beware turning it 
into a trade — that is to say, into a mercenary art, having gain 
only for its object. Certainly one must live, and it is rare 
that writers, poets, artists, have at their command resources 
enough to do without the pecuniary fruit of pen or hand ; but 
the attainment of the beautiful should be preferred to that of 
the useful : study, the imitation of the great masters, contempt 
for fashion, striving after all that is delicate, noble, pure, the 
avoiding of all that is low, frivolous, factitious : such are the 
principles which should regulate the morality of artist and 
writer. It is useless to add that they should seek their suc- 
cess in what elevates the soul, and not in what corrupts and 
degrades it. Coarseness, brutality, license, should be absolutely 
condemned. Better to devote one's self to a useful and humble 
profession than employ one's talent in depraving morals, and 
degrading souls. 

The duties of the poet have been eloquently expressed by 
Boileau in his Art poetique. 

1. It is a duty to devote one's self to poetry and the fine arts 
only when one has a d(;cid(Ml vocation for them. 

" ^ii rather a mason, if that be your talent." 



I>ROtESSIONAL DUTIES. 181 

2. The poet should listen to good advice. 

" Make choice of a sohd and wholesome censor." 

3. The poet and artist should, in their verses and works, 
the interpreters of virtue. 

" Let your soul and your morals, depicted in your works, 
Never present of you but noble images." 

Love, then, virtue ; nourish your soul therewith. 

" The verse always savors of the baseness of the heart." 

4. They must avoid jealousies and rivalries. 

" Flee, above all, flee base jealousies." 

5. They must prefer glory to gain. 

" Work for glory and let no sordid gain 
Ever be the object of a noble writer." 



CHAPTEE IX. 
Drrrns of s'Aiio^rs a^ioxg themseltes — ^esteb- 

>rATIO>'AL LAW. 



SUMMARY. 

General principles of international law. — Tliev are the principles of 
zhi ninu-jJ. liw applieii to tiie relations nations sustain to each other. 

Of war. — "^ar fijundeii on the right of self-defense. The reasons for a 
yziz A-or. 

Defensive and offensive wars. — This ilivision <Ioes not necessarily 
eone^and to tint of just «■ nnjost wars. — PTeiautions and prepara- 
tims. — Duties in tim^ of -war : to reeonciLe as much as possible the 
E^btsof ImmaBikj vifeh those of patnoHsm. — ^Eights of war concem- 
ii^ the enemy's {mvpertj. — Conqiieat. — Neutrality. 

neafies: tlieir daneter ; their forms ; their «iifferent 
-Eaaential eomditiows for pohlie treaties : they are the same 
as for fnrate contracts. 

Observance of treaties. — Obiigatnty ehaneter of treaties : testimony 
of Cardinal Bifeheiieo. 

The hmoan race being diyided into divers partienlar socie- 
ties called States or nationSy those dLfferent bodies stand to- 
ward each other as individnals ; they are subject to the 
pdmitiTe laws existiiig naturally among all men, and tbey are 
oUiged to practice certain duties to waul each other. 

112. brternaKonal law.— General principles. — It is this 
body of laws whi<.u is <:; ' ' •luitojihal liu:, ami which is 

Dolhing more than the n itself, or the moral law ap- 

plied to nations. 

It b by virtue of this : e nations ought to 



DUTIES OF Is^ATIONS AMOKG THEMSELVES. 183 

consider each other equals, and independent of each other ; 
that the}^ should not injure each other, and should make each 
other, on the contrary, reparation for injury done. Hence the 
right of self-defense in case of attack, of repelling and restrain- 
ing by force whatever violence may threaten or oppress them. 
When nations practice toward each other the prescriptions 
of the natural law, they are in a state of jpeace with each 
other ; when they are obliged to resort to force to repel in- 
justice, they are in a state of ivar. 

113. Wap.^-It is evident that in all nations the ruler, who- 
ever he be (the people, nobles, or king), ought to have the 
right to carry on war j for it is nothing else than the riglit of 
self-defense^ and this right is the same for the nation as for 
individuals. War is, then, legitimate in principle ; but in 
fact, it may be just or unjust according as it takes place for 
good or bad reasons, and sometimes for no reason at all. 

114. Reasons of a just war. — It is not easy to say in ad- 
vance and in a general manner, what may be the reasons of a 
just war ; for they vary according to circumstances ; they may 
be all reduced to one fundamental principle, namely, the de- 
fense of the national territory when threatened. Moreover, a 
war may be undertaken not only in self-defense, but to protect 
allies when they are unjustly attacked. As for the following 
reasons, more or less frequently alleged as pretexts for war, 
good morality cannot justify them : 

1. Thus, the fear of the powerful neighbor, giving, for ex- 
ample, as a pretext that he erects new citadels on his lands, 
organizes an army, increases his troops, etc., is not a sufficiently 
just reason for war. 

2. Utility does not give the same right as necessity : for 
example, arms could not legitimately be resorted to in order to 
gain possession of a place which might suit our convenience, 
and be proper to protect our frontiers. 

3. The same may be said of the desire to change dwelling- 
place, to leave marshes, deserts, in order to settle in a more 
fertile country. 



184 ELEMEiq^TS OF MORALS. 

4. It is no less unjust to make attempt upon the rights and 
liberties of a people under pretext that they are less intelligent 
or less civilized than we are. The cause of civilization is, 
then, not a cause for just war so long as we have not ourselves 
been attacked by barbarians. 

5. Nor is it just to conquer a people under pretext that our 
conquest may be to its advantage, bring it riches, or liberty, 
or morality, etc. 

115. Defensive and offensive wars. — We distinguish two 
kinds of war, defensive and offensive. The first consists in de- 
fending the national territory, the second, in attacking the 
enemy's territory. 

It would be a mistake to confound defensive and offensive 
wars with just and unjust wars, and to believe that only the 
defensive wars are just, and all offensive ones unjust. This 
distinction has nothing to do with the causes of the war, but 
concerns the manner of engaging in it ; sometimes one's in- 
terest lies in allowing one's self to be attacked, sometimes in 
attacking. He who has done us injustice may very well wait 
for us to come to him, instead of carrying arms to us ; this 
does not prove him to be in the right. He who, on the con- 
trary, takes up arms to obtain reparation for an injustice or an 
insult, does not prove thereby that he is in the wrong. 

116. Precautions and preparations. — Even in the case of 
just causes, there are certain precautions and preparations 
necessary in order that the war be called a just one. 

1. The subject must be of great consequence. It is criminal, 
for a frivolous cause, to expose men to all the evils that accom- 
pany a war, even the most fortunate. 

2. There must be some probability of success : for it would 
be criminally rash to expose one's self foolhardily to certain 
destruction and, to avoid a lesser evil, tlirow one's self into a 
greater. 

3. If we had no gentler means at our disposal. 

Tliere are two ways of settling a dispute between nations, 
witliout recourse to arms: 1, an amicable conference between 



m 



DUTIES OF KATIONS AMO^-G THEMSELVES. 185 

the parties ; 2, the intervention of a disinterested third party, 
or arhitrameni. A third means, much rarer and now aban- 
doned, is that of casting lots. When all the means of settling 
the difficulty amicably have been exhausted, there remains, be- 
fore taking up arms, a final obligation, namely, to declare to the 
enemy the resolution of employing the last means : this is 
what is called a declaration of war. 

117. Duties in times of war. — War having become a sad 
and unavoidable necessity between nations, and the use of 
force determined on, it behooves as much as possible to restrict 
it in its effects, and to reconcile the rights of humanity with 
those of justice. Hence, certain rules established by juris- 
consults who have treated these matters, and notably Grotius, 
the founder of international law. 

The fundamental principle of the right of war is the 
following : All that has a morally necessary connection with 
the purpose of the war is allowed, but nothing more. In 
fact, it would be wholly useless to have the right to do a 
thing, if, to accomplish it, one could not employ the neces- 
sary means thereto ; but, on the other hand, it would not be 
just if, under the pretext of only defending one's rights, one 
should believe that everything is permitted, and should resort 
to the last extremities. 

From this general principle are deduced the following con- 
sequences, which are only its applications : 

1. It is certain that it is lawful to kill the enemy's soldiers, 
and, in fact, the purpose of the war being to constrain the 
enemy to recognize the justice of our cause, it would be vain 
to take up arms if one could not use them. It is then one of 
the cases where manslaughter may be considered innocent, 
and justified by the right of personal self-defense. (See above, 
Ch. iii., p. 50.) 

2. However, the right of death upon the enemy has its 
limits. As a principle, it only extends to those who carry 
arms, and not to private individuals who do not defend them- 
selves, arms in hand. Such can only accidentally become the 



186 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

victims of the war : for instance, it is impossible in a battle to 
protect the inhabitants of a disputed village against the balls 
of either party ; but we should not knowingly strike dead 
those who do not defend themselves. 

3. Strangers should be allowed to quit a country exposed 
to war ; and if obliged to stay, they should be no further ex- 
posed than to share its inevitable perils with the other citizens. 

4. Prisoners of war should be neither killed nor reduced to 
slavery, but simply prevented from doing mischief. 

As to the means employed to deprive an enemy of his life, 
humanity, with just reason, interdicts the use of certain 
cowardly and perfidious means ; as, for instance, poisoned 
bullets, or too cruel means of destruction, or lastly, assassina- 
tion. 

Thus, it would be odious to send traitors secretly charged 
to kill the hostile general. There is, besides, no example of 
such attempts in modern wars, and the human conscience 
would unanimously reprove them. 

Thus much concerning the rights war gives over the lives 
of enemies. Let us consider now the duties regarding prop- 
erty. 

1. War gives the right to destroy the property of the 
enemy ; it is what is called the 7ig}it of ravage. But ravage 
should not be pursued for its own sake, but only to weaken 
the enemy. Thus we should as much as possible spare public 
monuments, works of art, etc. 

2. It is a right of war to acquire and appropriate things be- 
longing to the enemy until agreement as to the moneys due, 
including the expenses of the war. 

3. It is by virtue of these principles that, in case of naval 
encounters, it is justifiable to take possession of the enemy's 
vessels, and not only of men-of-war, but of merchant-men and 
the goods they carry. 

4. This right u])()n the enemy's property is only the sover- 
eign's ; he alone has a right to a])])ropriate, in the name of 
the State, the property of the invaded territory, by way of 



I 



DUTIES OF NATION'S AMOi^G THEMSELVES. 187 

restitution or guaranty ; but war does not confer upon single 
individuals the right of taking possession of people's property 
and appropriating it : this is simply pillage. 

118. Conquest. — We call right of conquest the right which 
belongs to a State to bring under its sovereignty the whole or 
part of another State, by virtue of the right of war. Con- 
quest, it will be seen, is but the right of the strongest. It is 
contrary to the principle of modern political societies, which 
requires that the State rest on the free contract of citizens, and 
that a people should only be subject to laws consented to. 

It is not easy to have an official authentication of this con- 
sent ; but it is certain that there are annexations that are 
voluntary, and others that are not. The latter, it must be 
hoped, will become less and less frequent as the idea of justice 
among nations develops. 

119. Neutrality. — We call neutrality the situation of States 
which, in a case of war, side with neither the one nor the 
other of the belligerents, but remain at peace with the two 
parties. They are, therefore, obliged to practice toward them 
the laws of natural right impartially : if, for example, they 
render to one a service of humanity, they must not refuse the 
same service to the other. They must not furnish means of 
hostility to either the one or the other, or they must furnish 
them to both. They must lend their good offices for a settle- 
ment if they have any chance of being listened to. 

These rules are very simple ; but, practically, the situation 
of neutrals is a very delicate one, and gives rise to numerous 
difficulties, for the solution of which, resort must be had to 
the special treatises on the law of nations. 

120. International treaties : their characters : their 
forms. — We have seen that nations have among each other, 
the same as individuals, obligations and rights which they 
derive from the natural law. But there are other obligations 
and other rights which are no longer based on nature, but on 
special contracts or usages. The international law which bears 
on usages is called customary rigid ; that which comes from 



188 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

compacts, is called conventional right. The compacts between 
States are called treaties. 

Treaties are equal or unequal, according as the}" promise 
equal or unequal things ; personal or real, according as they 
relate only to certain persons, and during their lives, or as 
they are independent of persons a}Kl last as long as the State 
itself ; ^wre and sim^jle or conditional ; in the first case the 
stipulations are absolute ; in the second they depend on cer- 
tain conditions. 

There are different species of treaties according to their 
different objects: treaties of alliance; treaties of boundaries ; 
treaties of cession ; treaties of navigation and cominerce ; trea- 
ties of neittrality ; treaties of peace. 

121. Essential conditiotrs of public treaties. — As a prin- 
ciple, the rules which govern international compacts are (with 
the exception of a few differences) the same as those which 
govern private compacts. There are three fundamental con- 
ditions : 1, the consent; 2, a licit cause; 3, the capacity of 
the contracting parties. (See above, 92.) 

The consent should be : 1, declared ; 2, free ; 3, mutual. 

The licit causes are those which are physically possible or 
morally legitimate; the illicit causes are those which are con- 
trary to n^orality, as, for example, would bo the establishment 
of slavery. 

The capacity of making a comj^act Ix-Jongs to the sovereign 
of the State alone ; but it is necessary that this sovereign be 
really invested with the power. A sovereign stripped of his 
sovereignty has no power to make compticts, although he might 
have all the most k^gitimate rights ; and, on the other hand, a 
usurping power can legitimately make compacts. The reason 
of this is, that foreign nations are not capable to decide what 
with another people constitutes the legitimacy or non-legit- 
imacy of poAver : there is for them, therefore, only the power 
de facto. Yet this is but the gener.d rule. There may be 
cases where a foreign go\'ennuent may refuse to recognize a 
usurper's pov,Tr. 



DUTIES OF NATIOXS AMONG THEMSELVES. 189 

122. Observance of treaties. — The obligation to observe 
treaties is based on the natural law. Whether compacts take 
place between States or individuals, it matters little. The 
States, in respect to each other, are like private individuals. 
Certain publicists, particularly Machiavelli, have maintained 
that the obligation to observe treaties only lasts as long as 
these accord with our interests. As much as to say that one 
should not make any compacts. Besides, Machiavelli's opinion 
is in such disrepute that it is almost useless to discuss it. AVe 
will content ourselves with setting against it the following 
beautiful thought of a great politician : 

Kings should be very careful in making treaties, but when once 
made, they must observe them religiously. I know very well that 
many politicians teach the contrary ; but without stopping to consider 
what Christianity has to say regarding these maxims, I maintain that, 
since the loss of honor is greater than that of Ufe, a great prince should 
rather risk his person, and even the loss of his State, than break his 
word, which he cannot break without losing his reputation, con- 
sequently, his greatest strength as a sovereign. (Cardinal de Richelieu, 
Testament 2)olitique, 2® partie, eh. vi) 



CHAPTER X. 

FAMILY DUTIES. 



SUMMARY. 

The family. — Origin and history of the family. — The family originat- 
ing in the necessity of the perpetuation of the species, has gradually 
gained in morality until it has reached the present state, namely, 
monogamy, or marriage between one man and one woman : a pro- 
gress so far as the dignity of woman and the equality of the sexes are 
concerned. 

Duties of marriage. — The duties of marriage begin before marriage: 
to be prudent in the choice of a partner ; to prefer the moral interests 
to the material interests. 

Mutual duties of the married couple : fidelity founded : 1, on a free 
promise ; 2, on the very idea of marriage. 

Duties peculiar to the husband : protection of the family, work, etc. 

Celibacy and its duties. 

Duties of parents toward children.— Of the rights of parents. — 
Basis and limits of the paternal authority. — Instituted in the interest 
of the children, it is limited by that very interest. 

Parents have not, therefore, 1, the right of life and death ; 2, the right 
to strike and maltreat ; 3, the right to sell ; 4, the right to corrupt. 

Duties of parents. — General duty of affection without privileges or 
preferences. — Duty of maintenance and education. — Decrease of par- 
ental responsibility in pro[)ortion to the age of the children. — Three 
periods in paternal authority. 

Duties of children respecting their parents and respecting each 
other. — Filial duty. — Fraternal duty. 

Duties of masters towards their servants. 

123. The family. — It is a law among all living beings to 
perpetuate their species. This law is among animals subject 
to no moral law. Yet are there certain species where between 
the male and female a kind of society is established ; and with 
nearly all animals the attachment of the mother to her young, 



FAMILY DUTIES. 191 

shows itself by most striking and touching proofs. But this 
maternal interest does not usually last beyond the time neces- 
sary to bring up the little ones and enable them to provide for 
themselves. Beyond this time, the offspring separate and 
disperse. They live their own life ; the mother knows them 
no longer. As to the father, he has scarcely ever known 
them. Such are the domestic ties among animals : and, rude 
as they may be, one cannot help already recognizing and 
admiring in them the anticipated image of the family. 

The family in the human species has the same origin and 
the same end as in the animal species, namely, the perpetua- 
tion of the species ; but in the former it is exalted and ennobled 
by additional sentiments : it is consecrated and sanctioned by 
laws of duty and right to whicli animals are absolutely in- 
capable of rising. 

If we consider the history of the human race, we see the 
family rise progressively from a certain primitive state, which 
is not very far from the animal promiscuity, to the condition 
in which we see it to-day in most civilized countries. Among 
savage nations, marriages have little stability and duration : 
they are as easily broken as formed. Female dignity and 
modesty are scarcely known among them : woman is more a 
slave than a companion, and the freedom of morals has 
scarcely any limits. Yet is there no society where marriages 
are not subject to some sacred or civil formalities, which shows 
that savages, ignorant as we may suppose them to be, have a 
presentiment of duties which, under favorable circumstances, 
tend to purify and elevate the relations of the sexes. Later, 
in other societies, marriages take a more regular form and a 
more fixed character ; yet, admitting polygamy, more or less, 
as among the ancients. In short, many circumstances have 
presided over the legal relations of the two sexes, before, 
through the natural progress of morals and Christian influence, 
monogamy became the almost universal law of the family in 
civilized countries. 

It has been seen, then, that as the moral sentiment became 



192 ELEMEN^TS OF MOEALS. 

more refined, the family, as it exists to-day, became more 
closely related to the State ; and it will always be safer, in 
order to establish the legitimacy of such an institution and 
secure for it due respect, to depend more on sentiment than on 
reasoning. 

Besides, the family is a natural result of the necessary rela- 
tions which exist between mother, father, and child. 

It is the birth of the children which is the end and raison 
d'etre of the family. 

This fact, let it be well noted, already determines between 
mother and child a relation of some duration. The child is 
altogether unable to live and develop alone. The mother 
owes it its nourishment ; and nature, having herself prepared 
for the child in the breast of the mother the sources of its 
subsistence truly indicated thereby that they should be bound 
to each other by a positive and inevitable tie. It is true the 
same tie exists also among the families of the animals and 
their young (at least with mammalia); and we have seen that 
there exist among them some germs of family. But let us 
not forget that it takes only a little time for the young of the 
animal species to reach that degree of strength which enables 
it to leave its mother without danger. With the human 
species, on the contrary, it takes a considerable time. Before 
the first or second year the child is unable to walk ; when it 
walks, it is still unable to walk alone, to find its food, to 
develop in any way. Imagine a child two, three, five years 
old, abandoned to himself in a desert island : he would die of 
hunger. Besides, instinct is much less strong in man than in 
animals, and much less certain ; when an adult, man follows 
his own reason ; in childhood he needs the reason of others. 
What shall I say of his moral education and intellectual de- 
velopment ? The child needs a teacher as well as a nurse. 
We see that the relations between mother and child must 
naturally be i)rolonged far beyond those between animals. 
The first natural and necessary relations will finally create be- 
tween these two beings habits of such a character that they 



lAMILY DUTIES. 193 

"will never more separate, even when they can do without each 
other. At least, this separation will not take place before 
man is completely man ; and although son and daughter may 
separate from the family to become in their turn heads of 
families, there will always exist between parents and children 
certain ties, certain relations, all the closer, as they each fol- 
low the laws of nature. In short, children can never be seen, as 
is the case in the animal s^jecies, becoming complete strangers 
to their father and mother. 

I have first considered the tie between the mother and the 
child, because it is the most evident and the most necessar}-. 
But this relation is not the only one. .The child, we have 
said, needs protection for a long time : does the mother's pro- 
tection suffice ? To judge from the way woman is constituted, 
one can see tliat she needs protection herself. Her weakness 
and her sex expose her to attacks ; she is then but an insuffi- 
cient protection to the feeble creature she is united to by so 
many ties. Therefore must the family have a protector ; and 
■who should be the natural protector of the child, if not the 
father ? of the wife, if not the husband ? The necessity of 
protection renders, then, man indispensable to the famil3\ 
"We may add to this, the necessity of subsistence. Undoubt- 
edly the mother gives the child its first nourishment ; but 
later on, the common means of subsistence must come from 
work- Now, without denying tlmt woman is called to work 
the same as man, and whdst admitting that in the simple and 
natural state she is very much stronger than in the civilized 
state, it must, nevertheless, l)e admitted that \voman, in gen- 
eral, is less fitted for work tlian man ; that with more trouble, 
she produces less, and that a large portion of her life is neces- 
sarily taken up with her peculiar carea. AYithout the work of 
the head of the family, the common subsistence ^YOuld, there- 
fore, be imperiled. 

If we now consider the education of the children, it is be- 
yond doubt that the maternal education is insufficient. The 
mother represents in the family, love, solicitude, serviceableness. 



194 ELEMEN-TS OF MORALS. 

In a solid education, authority slioidd be added to these. It 
may be noticed that in children brought up by one of the 
parents only, there is in general something incomplete. Those 
who have had the father only, lack something in tenderness 
and delicacy of feeling which the graces of maternity insen- 
sibly communicate to the child ; those who have had the 
mother only, are lacking in discipline and solidity of 
character : they are capricious and of a more passionate Avill- 
fulness. Nature, then, appeals to the joint efforts of both 
father and mother in the education of the child. Let us add 
now that this close tie, which on one side attaches the child to 
the mother and on the other to the father, should also attach 
parents to each other, far beyond the first and transitory tie 
which first joined them. United in a common undertaking, 
namely, to support and educate the being they have brought 
into the world — it is impossible that they should not continue 
to be more and more closely united. 

124. Family duties. — This is the natural history of the 
family. It was probably in a similar manner, Avith many 
vicissitudes, that it gradually formed and then became trans- 
formed. Let us now see how out of this association, founded 
by instincts, interests, and circumstances, the principle of 
duty makes a sacred and indissoluble institution. 

There can be distinguished in the family four kinds of rela- 
tions, whence spring four classes of chities : 

1. The relations tietween the husband and wife. 

2. Tlie relations of parents to children. 

3. The relations of children to parents. 

4. The relations of children to each other. 

Whence conjugal duty, paternal or maternal duty, filial 
duty, and fraternal duty. 

To these four relations, there may be added a fifth : that of 
the head of a family to his servants. 

125. Duties of marriage. — The duties of marriage begin 
before marriage : they begin with the mutual choice of the 
man and the woman. For the woman, it usually happens, at 



FAMILY DUTIES. 195 

least in our society [in France], tliat the choice is determined 
by the parents. The responsibility, then, falls upon them. 
Xow, this clioice should not be made lightly and foolishly. It 
should be determined by a serious and noble conception of the 
duties and end of marriage. 

" Marriage," our Code admirably says, " is an association 
between man and woman, to share the pleasures and bear in 
common the trials of life." * 

Marriage is, therefore, a compact entirely moral : it is not 
only a union of bodies or fortunes, it is a union of souls. Life 
in common and indissoluble, with all its possible accidents, is 
too heavy a burden to be left to chance. A man should 
think not only of his own happiness, but also of that of the 
Avoman whom he associates with his destiny ; if he does not 
consider himself strong enough to fulfill toward her ail the 
duties which such a connection imposes on him, he should 
not unite her to himself by indissoluble vows ; if he does 
not think that he can love and respect her all through life, 
let him spare himself and her a life-long misery. We may 
see by this how important in conjugal union are a harmony 
of character, a just and mutual esteem, and an enlightened 
affection. To marry rashly and too hastily, and thus to risk 
future happiness, is already failing in a first duty. One 
should, therefore, not rely too implicitly upon indifferent or 
interested go-betweens. 

It is said, indeed, that there is no way of knowing with 
certainty the character and sincerity of men. Many a one who 
in society appears amiable and estimable, is perhaps, in private 
life, selfish and tjTannical ; women, it is said, moreover, are 
particularly skilled, even when young, in assuming qualities 
Avhich they do not possess, and in disguising their faults ; 
that if one were constantly scrutinizing and distrusting, mar- 
riage would be impossible ; for the most sagacious are deceived 

* Montaigne thus expressed himself in regard to marriage : " A good marriage is a 
sweet society for life, full of constancy, troubles, and an infinite number of useful 
and substantial services and mutual obligations." 



19G ELEMENTS CP MORALS. 

in them, etc., etc. All tins, to a certain extent, is true ; and 
there could be nothing done without some sort of confidence ; 
but this confidence, when it is the result of precaution and 
prudence, is much less often deceived than satirists would 
have it. Besides, if there be room for deception, even after a 
reasonably long intimacy, the chances are at least better than 
they would be if the parties were to rush headlong into a 
future absolutely unknown to them. 

Another grave error is that of seeing in marriage nothing 
but a union of fortunes and names. 

It is bringing what in reality is the noblest and most 
delicate of contracts, down to a sim})le commercial act. Cer- 
tainly one should not propose to the inexperience of young 
people the union of two poverties, as an ideal : it is well 
known that poverty is much harder to bear when one has to 
share it with a wife and children, than alone. But whilst in 
certain classes of society marriage could scarcely be possible 
otherwise (workingmen having no capital to back their mar- 
riage contracts), the classes that have some competency should 
not make property the first consideration ; character, mind, 
and merit should by far outweigh it. 

We distinguish generally two kinds of marriages : the 
reason-marriages {inariarjes de raison) and the inclination 
marriages ; and much has been said for and against both. 
These are questions which will never be solved, because expe- 
rience shows that they are mostly dependent on circumstances. 
It may be said that, as a principle, the true marriage is the 
marriage based on inclination enlightened by reason. What 
ex])eri(!nce and wisdom condemn, are the foolish inclinations 
— those, for example, that take no account of age, education, 
social surroundings, necessities of life. These sorts of pas- 
sion scarcely ever stand the test of time and circumstances, 
and are generally followed by a painful reaction. " There is," 
says La Bruy^re, " hardly any other reason for loving no longer, 
than to have loved too much." But inclination is not always 
unreasonable ; a]id when it can be reconciled with the counsels 



FAMILY DUTIES. 197 

of wisdom, which is no rare thing, it is better than cold 
reason, and answers better to the purpose of marriage : it is a 
surer guaranty of its dignity and happiness. 

A wise moralist, Mr. Adolphe Garnier, makes a very reason- 
able reply to those who pretend that inclination disappears 
very fast in marriage: "We reply," he says, "that inclination 
will at least have formed a true marriage whilst it lasted. It 
will leave for all the rest of life a remembrance of the first 
years, which shall have been purified, ennobled, sanctified by 
this heart-affection. This remembrance will sweeten more 
than one bitter moment, will prevent more than one anguish. 
Duty will be sustained by a remembrance of past happiness."^ 

The marriage once made, we have to consider, one after the 
other, the duties of the husband and those of the wife. There 
are some they have in common, and others which belong to 
the particular part each plays in the household. 

The duty which the husband and wife have in common, is 
fidelity. This duty is based on the very nature of marriage, 
as also upon a mutual promise. 

Let us begin by this latter consideration. Marriage, such 
as it is instituted in civilized or Christian countries, is monog- 
amy, or marriage of one man with one woman (except in cases 
of decease). Such is the state one binds one's self to in enter- 
ing the marriage relation : one accepts thereby the obligation 
of an inviolable fidelity. If then a promise is sacred in respect 
to material goods, how much more sacred is the promise 
between hearts, and this mutual gift of soul to soul, which 
constitutes the dignity of marriage ! Conjugal fidelity is, then, 
a duty of honor, a veritable debt. 

But fidelity is not only the obligatory result of a prom- 
ise, of a given word ; it is also the result of the very idea of 
marriage, and marriage in its turn results from the nature of 
things. 

]\Iarriage was instituted to save the dignit}^ of woman. 
Experience, in fact, teaches us that wherever polygamy 

* Ad. Ga.rn\eT ■ Morale sociale I., ii., p. 104. 



198 ELEME^'TS OF MORALS. 

exists, woman is not far from being man's slave. Man, divid- 
ing his affections between several women, cannot love each 
one with that refinement and constancy which render her 
his equal. How could there exist between a master and 
several slaves vying for his looks and caprices, that intimacy, 
that mutual sharing of good and evil wherein tlie moral 
beauty of marriage consists 1 It is quite evident that equality 
between man and woman cannot exist where the latter is 
obliged to share with others the common good of conjugal 
affection. 

Hence the institution of marriage which was established in 
the interest of the woman, and which is the protection of the 
weaker party. It evidently follows that, on her side, she is 
held to the same fidelity which she has a right to demand. 
Conjugal infidelity, on whichever side it occurs, is then a dis- 
guised polygamy, and, moreover, an irregular and capricious 
polygamy, very inferior to the legal ; for this recognizes at 
least certain rules, and establishes with precision the condition 
of the several wives. But adultery destroys all regular and 
fixed relations between the married couple ; it introduces into 
marriage the open or clandestine usurpation of sworn rights ; 
it tends to re-establish the primitive and savage state, where the 
coming together of the sexes depended on chance and caprice. 

Fidelity is for the married couple a common and reciprocal 
duty. Each, besides, has peculiar duties. We shall lay par- 
ticular stress on those of the husband. The first of all, which 
carries with it all others, is protection. 

" Man, being the head of the family, is its natural protector. 
He holds his authority from the laws and from usage. More- 
over, it results from the very nature of things : for between 
two persons, even perfectly united, it is difficult, it is impos- 
sible, to meet with a constant uniformity of views, sentiments, 
and wishes. There must be, tlien, a determining voice ; one 
of the two persons sliaring in common domestic authority, 
must have the privilege of superior authority. Now, what 
are the titles to this superior authority 1 These titles are 



FAMILY DUTIES. 199 

strength and reason. Evidently, power in the family belongs 
by right to him who is strong eno*igh to defend it and reason- 
able enough to exercise it. 

But this authority would only be an insupportable privilege 
if man pretended to exercise it without doing any thing, with- 
out returning to the family in the form of security what it 
pays him" in respect and obedience. Work is the first duty 
of man as head of the family. This is true of all classes of 
society, as well of those who live upon their income, as of 
those who live by their work. For the first have to make 
themselves worthy of the fortune they have received by noble 
occupations, or, at least, by preserving it and making it bear 
fruit through a wise management : and the second have, I do 
not say, a fortune to acquire, which is an aim rarely attained, 
but they have a far more pressing object before them, namely, 
the livelihood of those who live under their protection.""^ 

]S"o one has better depicted, and in a more delicate and 
sensible manner, the common duties of husbands and wives 
than Xenophon, who in this particular is a Avorthy pupil of 
Socrates, the one of all the ancient sages who ])est understood 
the duties of the family. Socrates relates in the following 
terms the conversation of Ischomachus and his wife, — a young 
married pair, — in which the husband instructs his wife in 
domestic duties. 

" When she had become more familiar with me, and a closer 
connection had emboldened her to speak freely, I put to her 
something like the following questions : ' Tell me, my wife, 
dost thou begin to understand why I have chosen thee, and 
wh}'" thy parents have given thee to me ? . . . If the gods 
give us children, we must consult with each other and do our 
best in bringing them up : for it will be a happiness for both 
of us to find in them the protectors and support of our old age. 
But from this day on, all that is in this house is ours in com- 
mon; what is mine is thine, and thou hast thyself already put 

* See our book, La Famille, 3d lecture. We take the liberty to refer the reader to 
this book for the developmeut of the subject. 



200 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

in common all that thou hast brought. We have but to 
count which has brought most ; but wc must well remember 
one thing, and that is, that it will be the one of us two who 
will best manage the common property that shall have 
brought the most valuable share of capital.' 

"To this, my wife replied: 'In what can I assist thee? 
AATiat am I able to do 1 All depends (m thee. My mother 
told me that my task was to conduct myself well.' — ' Yes, by 
Jupiter ! ' I replied, ' and my father also told me the same 
thing ; but it is the duty of a well-behaving couple so to be- 
have that they may be as prosperous as possible, that by hon- 
est and just means they may add new goods to those they 
have. The gods, forsooth, did well when they coupled man 
Avith woman for the greatest utility of mankind. The interest 
of the family and house demands work without and within. 
Xow the gods, from t' e first, adapted the nature of w^oman 
for the cares and the works of the interior, and that of man 
for the cares and the works of the exterior. Cold, heat, 
travels, war, man is so constituted as to be able to bear all ; 
on the other hand, the gods have given to woman the inclina- 
tion and mission to nurse her offspring ; it is also she who is 
in charge of the provisions, whilst man's care is to ward off 
all that could injure the household. 

"'As neither is by nature perfect in all points, they neces- 
sarily need each other ; and their union is all the more useful, 
as what the one lacks may be supplied by the other. There- 
fore, wife, it behooves us, when instructed regarding the 
functions the gods have assigned to each of us, to endeavor to 
acquit ourselves the best we can of those that are incumbent 
on both. 

" ' There is, however,' I said, ' one function of thine which 
will please thee least, and that is, that if any one of thy slaves 
should sicken, thou, by the cares due to all, shouldst watch 
over his or her recovery.' ' By Jupiter.' said my wife, 'noth- 
ing will please me more, since, recovering by my care, they 
will be <a-ateful to UiC and show me still more utiection than 



FAMILY DUTIES. 201 

in the past.' This ans^rer delighted me,'" continued Ischo- 
niachus, and I said to her : ' Thou shalt have other cares 
more agreeable, namely, when of an unskilled slave thou 
slialt make a good spinner ; \\hen of an ignorant steward or 
stewardess, thou shalt make a capable, devoted, intelligent 
servant. But the sweetest charm shall be, when, more perfect 
than I, thou shalt have made me thy servant ; when, instead 
of fearing old age, lest it deprive thee of thy influence in thy 
household, tliou shalt have gained the assurance that in grow- 
ing old thou becomest for me a still better companion, for thy 
children a still better housekeeper, for thy household a still 
more honored mistress. For beauty and goodness do not de- 
pend on youth : they increase tlirough life in the eyes of men, 
by means of virtues.' " * 

We shall say a few words, without laying greater stress 
than necessary, about a question often debated, namely, that 
of the dissolution of marriage or divorce. AVe may observe, 
on this subject, with an excellent moralist,! whom we have 
already cited, that as marriage becomes purer, its dissolution 
will become more and more difficult. In former days, the 
first aspect of the conjugal relation showed the husband to be 
the master of the woman ; he bought her and sent her again 
away as he would a slave — he had the right of repudiation. 
Later on, he could no longer send her away from him without 
asking the law to pronounce a divorce ; but he M'as at first 
alone in claiming this ricjht. Xext, woman obtained the same 
right in her turn. At last divorce was suppressed, at least in 
some States, and particularly in our country ; :|: and we think, 
Avith the moralist quoted above, that this is the true road to 
progress. 

An English moralist § has justly said : " If love is a passion 
wliich a trifle may start and a trifle kill, friendship is a calm 
affection cemented by reason and habit. It becomes stronger 

* Xenoplion. t A. Gamier, Morale sociale. 

J The law of divorce has since been passed again in France. — [Transl.] 
§ David Hume, Essays. 



202 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

by rule, and it is never so strong as when two persons unite 
in the pursuit of a common interest. How many slight annoy- 
ances will they not endeavor to overlook, out of prudence, if they 
are obliged to live with each other, and which, with the pros- 
pect of an easy separation, would be allowed to fester even to 
aversion !" It is a duty for the individual conscience, even 
though divorce should be legally permitted, to consider mar- 
riage absolutely indissoluble, or at least make it a last resort ; 
it is, above all, a strict duty, in contracting a marriage, not to 
look to divorce as a hope and end. 

Some moralists have asked whether marriage was a duty. 
We do not hesitate to answer in the negative ;* that it is not 
a duty in the case of women is evident, since it is their lot not 
to choose themselves, but to be chosen ; now it does not always 
depend on tliem to find some one to choose them ; and if it 
is not an obligation for one of the two sexes, it would be 
strange if it were one for the other. Besides, the right of 
celibacy cannot be denied to one who gives up family life to 
devote himself to works of charity, as in the religious orders, 
and if this be a sufficient reason, there are many more of the 
same kind which might sanction the same conduct : as, for 
example, devotion to science or the country. If it be objected 
that every one owes himself to the preservation of the race, 
and that if no one married the race would perish, we can reply 
that there will always be men ready enough to marry, so that 
no such consequences need be feared. 

But the liberty of celibacy can be granted by the moral law 
on two conditions only : the first, that it be based on serious 

* A great German moralist, Fichtc, denies, however, people having a right to volun- 
tarily and systematically renounce marriage : " An unmarried person," he says, " is 
but half a person. A fixed resolution not to marry is absolutely contrary to duty. 
Not to marry is, without its being one's fault, a great misfortune ; but not to marry 
through one's fault is a great fault {Durch seine Schuld, einc grosse Schuld). It is 
not permitted to sacrifice this end to other ends, even where the service of tlie 
Church, or family or State duties, or, in fine, the repose of a contemplative life, are 
concerned ; for there is no higher end ft)r man than to be a complete man." There 
is much truth in tiiese words of Ficlite, yet may we be permitted to think that his 
doctrine in this respect is pushed to excess, as well as that which forbids second 
marriages. 



FAMILY DUTIES. 203 

reasons and not on selfishness ; namely, that there be good 
reasons to believe that one could render more service in that 
state than in an imprudently contracted marriage. The second 
condition, that celibacy does not interfere with purity of 
morals — the relations between the sexes being, in fact, only 
proper and legitimate in marriage. 

The relations between the sexes outside of marriage can 
only be adultery, seduction, or licentiousness. In the first 
case, the woman is induced to violate her duties, her vows, to 
give up all that alone can guarantee her dignity. In the 
second, the honor and dignity of a whole life is sacrificed to 
passion ; in the third, you make yourself an accomplice to a 
public and deliberate shame — a shame which would not exist 
except for just such accomplices. At any rate, the dignity 
of the woman— that is to say, of the weaker sex — is sacrificed 
to the passion of the stronger. 

126. Duties of parents toward their children. — An 
English philosopher said : " Such a one is the father of such a 
one ; hence he is his master," and he claims that paternal 
authority was thus based on the authority of mastership. 

This is a profoimd error. In the first place, no man can be 
absolutely the master of another man, unless that other be a 
slave : there can only exist relations of obedience or allegiance, 
required by social necessitj^ but which do not permit any 
man to be in absolute dependence upon another. The rela- 
tion between father and child is, it is true, of a particular 
kind; but it is not any more than the other the authority of 
a master over his slave, or of a proprietor over his property. 

Let us look into its origin, and we shall find, at the same 
time, the extent and the limits of paternal authority. 

To begin with, we will observe that, although usage has con- 
secrated the term paternal authority as meaning the authority 
exercised by parents over children, this authority includes 
the rights of both ; of the mother as well as of the father : 
1, in default of the father, in case of absence or death, the 
mother has over the child exactly the same authority as the. 



204 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

father ; 2, it is an absolute duty with parents to see that there 
be not, in regard to their children, two separate authorities in 
the house, two kinds of contradictory orders ; in the eyes of 
the child there should be but one and the same authority, ex- 
ercised by two persons, but essentially indivisible ; 3, in cases 
of conflict, the will of the father should prevail, unless the law 
interfere ; but the father should use such a privilege only as a 
last resort, and where it can be made evident that it is in the 
interest of the child. Even then he should see that the 
obedience to one of the parents be no disobedience to the 
other, for that would be destroying at its root the very author- 
ity he makes use of. 

Paternal authority is, then, the common authority of both 
p;xrents over their children ; and it is only an exception to the 
rule when the authority of one parent becomes detrimental to 
that of the other. 

What is now the principle of this authority ? A purely 
physical reason is given for it ; that the child, namely, is in 
some respect a jmrt of the parents. But this reason is not 
sufficient ; for it would presuppose paternal authority to last 
all through life under the same conditions and same degree of 
force ; whereas it continues ever diminishing as the child be- 
comes able to govern himself. 

The true reason for paternal or maternal authority lies in the 
feebleness of the cliild, in its i)hysical, intellectual, and moral 
incapacity. The child in coming into the Avorld is utterly in- 
capable of doing for itself. Supposing even that it could 
satisfy its physical wants, experience shows that it could not 
give itself an education, without which it cannot bo truly a 
man. Tliis state of feebleness requires, then, indispensable 
assistance?, and an assistance of long duration. It needs a hand 
to su})port and feed it, a heart to lovo it, an intelligence to (ui- 
lighten it. To whom belongs this roln of educator, protector, 
sustainer? "There have been some who have wished to take 
the cliild from the family to give it to the State; this is a 
great error; fur tlui child should evidently belong to those 



FAMILY DUTIES. 205 

without whom he would have no existence. In the first place, 
it were burdening society with a thing it is not responsible 
for ; moreover, it has no right upon the child, no particular 
tie existing between them ; finally, it offers no sufficient 
guaranty, and there can be at best expected of it but a vague 
and general solicitude, if, indeed, the same is not a partial 
one, and in favor of those from whom it may derive most ad- 
vantages ; whilst parents should unquestionably have charge 
of the child, since it is through them it exists ; and having 
charge of it, gives them a right to it : and how could they be 
responsible for this being they have given life to, if they could 
not in some measure dispose of it ? There are three ties be- 
tween the parents and the child : a physical bond, a heart- 
bond, a reason-bond : no other authority rests on more natural 
principles; none is more necessary, none is protected by 
greater guarantees." "^ 

Not only would the State, in taking possession of the child, 
encumber itself with functions for the performance of which 
it is unfitted, but it would also violate the natural rights of 
the human heart. Parents are, then, invested by nature her- 
self, with the duty of supporting and educating their children. 
But this duty calls for authority. How could a father and 
mother direct the child in the path of right and justice ; how 
could they impart to it their wisdom and experience; how 
could they prepare the way for its becoming in its turn a 
moral agent — one, namely, that acts and governs himself of 
his own accord — if they are not at the same time invested 
wuth the authority that commands obedience ? 

Paternal authority, as we see by this, has no other origin 
than the actual interest of the child : the mission of the 
parents is to represent it ; they have in some respect the 
government of its life. The whole authority of the father 
upon the child is, then, limited by the interests and the rights 
of the child itself. Beyond what may be useful to its physical 

* La Famille. 4th Lecture. 



206 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 

and moral existence, the father can do nothing. Such are the 
extent and limits of his authority. 
From these principles we deduce : 

1. That parents have now no right of life and death upon 
their children as they have had under certain legislations. 

2. That they have neither the right to strike them, maUreat 
them, wound them — in short, treat them as they would animals 
or tilings ; and although usage appears to allow certain cor- 
poreal punishments, it will always be a bad example and a 
bad habit to use blows as a means of education. 

3. Parents have no right to traffic with the liberty of their 
sons, to sell them as slaves as in ancient times, or to turn 
them into instruments of gain, as in many families even to 
this day. Certainly one could not wholly forbid a father to 
make a child work toward the support of the family, but it 
must be done without losing sight of the child's strength, 
and without sacrificing its intellectual and moral education. 

4. Parents have no right to corrupt their children, by mak- 
ing them accomplices in their own profligacy. 

Grotius justly distinguishes three periods in paternal author- 
ity :* the first, when the children have as yet no discernment, 
and are not capable of acting with full knowledge ; the sec- 
ond, when their judgment, being already ripe, they are still 
members of the family and have no business of their own ; 
the last, when they have left their father's house, either to 
become heads of families themselves, or to enter into another. 
In the first of these conditions, the will of the parents is en- 
tirely substituted for that of the children, and their authority, 
within the limits above stated, is conse(iuently absolute. In 
the third case, the son, having reached his majority or matur- 
ity, has conquered for himself an independent will ; paternal 
authority must consequently change into moral influence, 
Avhich a grateful son will res])ect, but which is no longer, prop- 
erly so called, an authority. Finally, in the intermediate state, 

♦ Du droit de la guerre et dc la j)aix, I., II. eh. v. § 2. 



FAMILY DUTIES. 207 

which is the most difficult of all, the paternal will, whilst re- 
maining preponderant, yields more and more to the will of 
the children, thereby preparing it toward becoming sufficient 
to itself. 

Let us examine the duties of the parents at these different 
periods of paternal authority. 

There is, to begin with, a general duty, which overrules the 
whole life of the parents as well as of the children, and which 
is independent of the latter's age : it is the duty of love. Par- 
ents must love their children; it is the foundation of all the rest. 
It may perhaps be objected that love is a natural feeling and 
cannot be a duty ; that the heart is not subject to the will ; 
that one may love or not love, according as one is by nature 
so constituted ; that duty therefore has nothing to do with it. 
It is also said that paternal or maternal love is so natural a 
sentiment that it is useless to make a duty of it. 

These arguments do not appear to us decisive ; and we 
have already answered them. We cannot, of course, create 
within ourselves sentiments which do not already exist. But 
we can cultivate or allow to die out sentiments which do exist 
within us naturally. The degree of sensibility in each indi- 
vidual depends, I admit, on his or her peculiar constitution of 
mind and heart; but it depends on us to reach the highest 
degree of sensibility we are capable of. For example, he who 
leaves his children or removes them from him (unless it be 
for their good*) may be certain that the love he bears them 
will insensibly die out. He, on the contrary, who takes the 
trouble to busy himself with his children, to win their love by 
intelligent and constant attentions, will necessarily feel his 
heart grow softer by this intercourse, and his natural feelings 
will gain more and more strength. 

But if it is a duty to love one's children, it is also in conse- 
quence of this duty that one should love them for themselves, 
and not for one's self. It is not our happiness we should seek 

* And that may be questioned. 



208 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

in our children, but theirs ; and for this reason does it some- 
times become necessary to govern one's own sensibility, and 
deny children pleasures detrimental to their best interests. 
The excess of tenderness is often, as has been said, but a want 
of tenderness ; it is a sort of delicate selfishness, shrinking 
from the pain the seeming suffering of the children might in- 
flict, and not knowing how to refuse them any thing for fear 
of displeasing them, prepares for them in this manner cruel 
deceptions against the time when they will have to face the 
sad realities of life. 

A corollary of what precedes, is that the father should Jove 
all his children equally, and guard against showing a prefer- 
ence. He should have no favorites among them, still less 
victims. He should not, from feelings of family pride, prefer 
the boys to the girls, or the oldest to the youngest. He 
should not even yield to the natural predilection w^hich in- 
('lines us to give our preference to the most amiable, the most 
intelligent, the most attractively endowed. It has often been 
observed that mothers have a particular tenderness for the 
feeblest of their children, or those that have given most 
trouble. If preference is at all justifiable it is in this case. 

After having established the general principle of the duties 
of the head of a family, namely, love, and an equal love, for 
all his children, let us consider th^ particular duties this gen- 
eral duty comprises. They bear upon two principal points : 
the preservation and the education of the children. 

We have seen that the fact of giving life to children, carries 
with it as an inevitable consequence the duty of preserv- 
ing it to them. The cliild not being able to provide its own 
food, the parents must furnish it : this results from the very 
nature of thingR. 

Whence it follows, that a father must work to provide for 
his children: this is so evident and necessary a duty that 
there is hardly any need of dwelling on it. 

But it is not only for the present that the head of the 
family ought to provide ; he should j)rovide for the future 
also. He should, on the one hand, foresee the case when, by 



• FAMILY DUTIES. 209 

some possible misfortune, he may be taken from his children 
before they are grown ; and on the other, prepare the way to 
their providing for themselves. The tirst case shows us how 
economy and prudence become thus a sacred duty for the 
head of a family. This also explains how it may be a duty in 
contracting a marriage not to lose sight of the question of 
property : not that this considei-ation should not give way 
before others more important ; but other things being equal, 
the best marriage is that which, keeping in view the future 
interests of the children, provides against the case when by 
some misfortune they may be left orphans at an early age. 

In supposing the most favorable cases, the father and 
mother may hope that they will live long enough to see their 
children becoming in their turn independent persons, able to 
provide for tliemselves. It is in view of this, that parents 
should plan a profession or a career for their children ; in 
most cases, it is a necessity, it is expedient in alL But the 
preparation for a career presupposes education ; and here the 
material interests and security of the children blend with their 
intellectual and moral interests. 

Everybody recognizes in the education of children two 
distinct things : instruction and education properly so called : 
the first has for its object the mind ; and the second the char- 
acter. These two things must not be separated : for, without 
instruction, all education is powerless ; and Muthout a moral 
education, instruction may be dangerous. 

Parents should then — and it is a strict duty— give to their 
children the instruction their resources and condition allow ; 
but they are not permitted to leave them in ignorance if they 
have the means to educate them. Some narrow minds still 
believe that instruction is of no use to the people, and is even 
a dangerous thing. This has been sufficiently refuted. The 
greatest number of crimes and offenses are committed by the 
most ignorant classes : the more they learn, the better will 
they understand the duties of their condition and the dignity 
of human nature. It has been justly said tliat little knowl^ 



210 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

edge may be more dangerous than ignorance : for this reason 
should men be raised above the dangerous point, and be put 
in possession of as much knowledge as their condition war- 
rants. 

Instruction has two useful effects : first, it increases the re- 
sources of a man, renders him better qualified for a greater 
variety of things ; it is then, as political economy styles it, a 
capital. Parents, in having their children taught, give them 
thereby a far more substantial and productive capital than what 
they could transmit to them by gift or legacy. In the second 
place, instruction elevates man and ennobles his nature. If it 
is reason that distinguishes man from the brute, knowledge 
enlarges and heightens reason. Instruction thus works to- 
gether with moral education and forms one of its essential parts. 

The head of a family who then, from personal interest, 
negligence, ill-will, or, in fine, from ignorance, deprives his 
children of the instruction which is their due, fails thereby in 
an essential duty.^ 

It must, moreover, be admitted, that instruction alone does 
not suffice ; science alone does not form character ; persuasion, 
authority, example, the moral action of every instant is neces- 
sary thereto. It is a great problem to know how much of fear 
and gentleness, restraint and liberty should enter in paternal 
education. All agree that a child should not be brought up 
through fear alone, as the animals are. As Fenelon admirably 
puts it, " Joy and confidence should be the natural state of 
mind of children ; otherwise their intelligence becomes ob- 
scured, their courage droops ; if they are lively, fear will irritate 
them ; if soft, it will make them stupid ; fear is like the 
violent remedies employed in extreme illnesses : they purge ; 
but they injure the constitution and wear out its organs ; a 
soul led by fear is always the feebler for it. " 

On the other hand, everybody admits also that an exces- 

♦ This duty to-day is imposed by law : " Primary instruction is obligatory for 
children of both sexes from six to thirteen years." (Law of the 28th March, 1882, 
art. 4.) 



FAMILY DUTIES. 211 

sive indulgence is as dangerous as a despotic authority. 
Eousseau ingenuously remarks : " The best means of making 
your child miserable is to accustom it to obtaining all it 
wants ; for its desires will incessantly grow with the facility 
mth which it can satisfy them ; sooner or later the inability 
to content it, will, despite yourself, oblige you to refuse, and 
this unexpected denial will give it more pain than the depri- 
vation of the thing itself. First it will want the cane you 
have in your hand ; then your watch ; then the bird in the 
air ; the bright star in the sky ; in short, all that it sees : and 
unless you were a god, how could you satisfy it?" This 
remark of Kousseau refers to the earliest cliildhood, but it can 
be applied to all ages. 

It is evident that all the duties we have here mentioned 
relate principally to the iirst of the three periods distinguished 
by Grotius. As the children grow up, their own personal 
responsibility gradually takes the place of the paternal respon- 
sibility, and there comes the time of the third state above 
mentioned, when both father and mother no longer owe their 
children any thing more than love or advice. Instead of being 
answerable for their existence, it is rather the reverse. It is 
the children's turn to become responsible for the happiness 
and safety of their parents. 

But, as we have said, the really difficult moment is that 
when the young man, awakening to himself, becomes conscious 
of a will, and, without experience and sense of proportion, 
wishes to exercise this will without restraint. It is here 
especially that the paternal will must show itself firm without 
despotism, and persuasive without flattery and weakness, and 
where it becomes necessary that the paternal authority be firmly 
rooted in the first age and upon solid foundations, so that the 
young man, even in his fits of self-will, may submit to this 
authority with confidence and respect. There is no particular 
formula which could set forth a rule of conduct obligatory 
under all circumstances. Tact in this case is better than 
rules. 



212 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

127. Duties of children.— The German philosopher Fichte, 
in his book on Ethics, has said some very good things touch- 
ing the duties of children ; we will cite from it some of the 
pages devoted to this subject.* 

" The right of parents to set limits to the liberty of their 
children cannot be questioned. 1 should respect the liberty 
of another man, because I regard him as a being morally 
educated, whose liberty is the necessary means whereby he 
may reach the end reason points out to him. I cannot be his 
judge, for he is my equal. But it is not the same in the case 
of my child. I regard my child not as a moral creature already 
formed, but to be formed ; and it is precisely for this reason 
that it is my duty to educate it. The same reason which 
commands me to respect the liberty of my equals, commands 
me to limit that of my child. 

"But I am to limit tliis liberty only in so far as the use the 
child may make of it might be injurious to the very end of 
its education. Any other repression is contrary to duty, for 
it is contrary to the end in view. It is the very liberty of the 
child which must be instructed ; and that this instruction be 
possible, the child must be free. Parents should not, there- 
fore, through mere caprice, forbid children, with a view, as is 
said, to break their will : it is only Avhere the will would run 
counter to the direct aims of their education that it should be 
broken. Here, however, parents must be the sole judges ; and 
are answerable to their conscience alone." "The only duty 
of the child," says Fichte again, "is obedience: this should be 
developed before any other moral sentiment ; for it is the root 
of all morality. Later on, when in the spliere left free by the 
parents, morality has become possible, the duty of obedience 
is still the greatest of all duties, tlie child should not wish to 
be free beyond the limits fixed by tlie parents themselves." 

Fichte exi)Liins next very ingeniously, how obedience is the 
only way by which the child can imitate the morality it can- 
not yet know : " The same relation which binds the full-grown 

♦ Fichte, System der SittenUhre, Pt. III., ch. iii., § 29. 



FAMILY DUTIES. 213 

man to the moral law, and to its author, God, binds the child 
to its parents. We should do all that duty commands us to 
do, absolutely and without troubling ourselves about conse- 
quences ; but to be able to do this, Ave must suppose these 
consequences to be in the hands of God, and intended for our 
good : the same with the child in regard to parental com- 
mands. Christianity represents God in the image of a father, 
and justly so. But we should not simply be satisfied always 
and incessantly to speak of his goodness ; we should also 
think of our oliligations toward him ; of our obedience, and 
that childlike trust free from all anxiety and uneasiness which 
we ought to cultivate in regard to his will. To create a similar 
obedience is the only means by which parents may- implant 
the sentiment of morality in the hearts of their children : it is, 
therefore, a real duty for parents to exercise their children in 
a similar obedience. It is a very false notion, which, like 
many others, we owe to the ruling eudemonism'^ of the day, 
that wrong inclinations of the child can be thwarted by 
reasoning with it. There is implied in this notion the ab- 
surdity of supposing the child to be possessed of a greater 
share of reasoning power than ourselves : for even adults are 
most of the time prompted in their acts '%y inclination, and not 
by reason.! 

" Another question presents itself now : How far, in its rela- 
tion to its parents, should the child's absolute obedience go ? 
This question may have two sides : the one as to the extent 
of this obedience, and the other as to its limits ; lioio far it 
should go; or in regard to length of time, lioiv long it shall 
last, and, if it is to cease at all, at what particular time it is to 
stop ? 

In the first case, the question may be raised either from the 
child's or from the parents' standpoint. On the part of the 
child it should never be raised. The answer is this : The 

* Doctrine of hnppines.^. 

t Fichte is right here when he speaks of the exaggeration of this principle. But 
the principle itself is a true one, namely, that one should accustom children to act 
according to their own reason : it is the only means of teaching them liberty. 



214 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

child should obey, and its obedience consists in its not wishing 
to have any more liberty than its parents permit it to have. 
Of the necessary limits of this obedience, the parents can alone 
judge ; the child cannot. The doctrine that the child should 
obey in all reasonable cases, as we often hear it said, is a con- 
tradictory on 3. He who only obeys in reasonable cases does 
not obey, for he becomes himself then the judge of what is 
reasonable and what is not. If he does any thing suitable be- 
cause he judges it to be so, he acts according to his own con- 
viction, and not from obedience. Whether this obedience 
which they exact be reasonable or not, it is for the parents to 
answer for it before their own consciences ; but they should 
not allow their children to sit in judgment over them. But, 
it may be asked, suppose the parents command their children 
to do an immoral thing 1 I answer : Either the immorality of 
it is only discovered after a laborious investigation, or it is ob- 
vious. In the first case, there can be no difficulty ; for the 
obedient child does not suspect his parents capable of com- 
manding him to do any wrong. In the second, the very basis 
of obedience — namely, the belief in the superior morality of 
the parents — is destroyed ; and then a prolonged obedience 
would be contrary to duty. The same when the immorality 
or the shame of the parents is self-evident in the children's 
eyes. Obedience then ceases because education through the 
parents becomes impossible. 

The second question is : How long does the duty of obe- 
dience last? The answer to this is: Obedience, in the first 
place, is only exacted in view of education ; and education is 
a means to an end ; that end being the utilization of the 
child's powers for some reasonable purpose, under whatever 
circumstances or through whatever mode. When that end 
has been attained, the child cannot judge : it is for the parents 
to decide. Now two cases are possible here : 

(Jne is where the father himself declares the end attained 
and leaves his children free to act according to their own will 
and judgment. 



FAMILY DUTIES. 215 

The other is where a certain result is sufficient to declare 
the end attained. The State is in this instance a competent 
outside judge. For example, if the State entrusts an office to 
a son, it declares the hitter's education completed ; the judg- 
ment of the State is the parents' judicial bond : they must 
submit to it without appeal : it binds them also morally, and 
they must submit to it from a sense of duty. 

There is finally a third case : this is where parental educa- 
tion is no longer possible, as, for example, on the marriage of 
the children. The daughter then gives herself to her husband 
and becomes subject to his will : she can therefore no longer 
depend upon her parents' will. The son assumes the care of 
his wife, conformably to her wishes ; he can therefore no 
longer be guided by others' wishes, not even by those of his 
parents. 

These three cases do not yet exhaust the question ; for we 
may suppose a fourth : the one where the children are not 
called to a function, by the State ; when they do not marry, 
and when the parents are nevertheless unwilling to relax their 
authority, seemingly wishing to uphold the obedience of early 
childhood. In this case, the parents evidently overstep their 
rights ; for it is obvious that at a given time man must belong 
to himself. This time has been fixed by the State ; which 
determines when one attains to his majority. In granting to 
a son the free disposal of his property, the liberty to make 
contracts, to traffic, the right of suffrage, the right to marry, 
etc., the State puts an end to paternal authority as an author- 
ity armed with restraint, yet certainly not as a moral authority, 
for in this respect it is indelible. The son having become a 
person, and being in his turn invested with moral respon- 
sibility, may lay obedience aside, but he does not with this lay 
aside the respect, gratitude, and affection he OAves his parents. 

Even after the emancipation of the children, there still 
exists between them and their parents a moral tie. 

Parents, especially if they have been, as Ave suppose, the 
educators of their children, know their inner being, their dis- 



216 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

position : they have seen it develop under their eyes ; they 
have formed it. They therefore know it better than the chil- 
dren themselves can know it. They consequently continue 
to be their best advisers. There is then left to parents a 
special duty, namely, that of advising their children, and on 
the part of the children a correlative duty, that of listening 
attentively to the advice of their parents, and of considering 
it carefully. Thus do parents retain their care and solicitude 
for their children, and the children the duty of respect. 

These duties of respect and gratitude toward parents have 
been admirably expressed by the ancient writers. 

Plato, after speaking of the honor which shouhl be given to the gods, 
says : " Next comes the honor of living parents, to whom, as is meet, 
we have to pay the first and greatest and oldest of all debts, considering 
that all which a man has belongs to those who gave him birth and 
brought him up, and that he must do all that he can to minister to them : 
first, in his jiroperty ; secondly, in his person ; and thirdly, in his soul ; 
paying the debts due to them for the care and travail Avhich they be- 
stowed upon him of old, in the days of his infancy, and which he is now 
to pay back to them when they are old and in the extremity of their 
need. And all his life long he ought never to utter, or to have uttered, 
an unbecoming word to them ; for all liglit and winged words he will 
have to give an account; Nemesis, the messenger of justice, is appointed 
to watch over them. And we ought to yield to our parents Avhen they 
are angry, and let them satisfy their feelings in word or deed, consider- 
ing that, when a father thinks that he has been wronged by his son, he 
may be expected to be very angry." * 

Xenophon, likewise, relates to us an admirable exhortation 
of Socrates to his oldest son Lamprocles, on filial piety. It is 
well known that the wife of Socrates, Xantippe, was noted 
for her crabbed disposition, which often sorely tried Socrates' 
patience. No doubt this was the case with the sons also ; 
but, less patient than their father, they yielded sometimes to 
tli(iii' anger. Socrates recalls Lamprocles to his duty as a son, 
enumerating to him all that mothers have to endure for their 
children : 

' Tlic I)ial()f,'iic.s of Phiti). Laws. li. Jowctfs Translation, H. IV., '2:\8. 



FAMILY DUTIES. 217 

"The woman receives and bears the hurden, oppressing and endan- 
gering her life, and imparting a portion of the nutriment with which 
she is herself supported ; and at length, after bearing it the full time, 
and bringing it forth with great pain, she suckles and cherislies it, 
though she has received no previous benefit from it, nor does tlie 
infant know by whom it is tended, nor is it able to signify what it 
wants, but she, conjecturing what will nourish and pleage it, tries to 
satisfy its calls, and feeds it for a long time, both night and day, sub- 
mitting to the trouble, and not knowing what return slie will receive for 
it ISor does it satisfy the parents merely to feed their offspring, but 
as soon as the children appear capable of learning any thing, they teach 
them whatever they know that may be of use for their conduct in life ; 
and whenever they consider another more capable of communicating 
than themselves, they send their sons to him at their own expense, and 
take care to adopt every course that their children may be as much im- 
proved as possible." 

Upon this the young man said : " But, even if she has done all this, 
no one, assuredly, could endure her ill-humor." 

"And do you reflect," returned Socrates, ''how much grievous trouble 
you have given her by your peevishness, by voice and by action, in the 
day and in the night, and how mucli anxiety you have caused her when 
you were ill ? . . . Or do you suppose your mother meditates evil to- 
ward you ?" " No, indeed," said Lamprocles, "that I do not suppose." 
" Do you then say that this mother," rejoined Socrates, " who is so be- 
nevolent to you, who, when you are ill, takes care of you, to the utmost 
of her power, that you may recover your health, and who, besides, en- 
treats the gods for many blessings on your head, is a harsh mother ? Oh, 
my son, if you are wise, you will entreat the gods to pardon you if you 
have been wanting in respect toward your mother, lest, regarding you 
as an ungrateful person, they should be disinclined to do you good ; and 
you will have regard, also, to the opinion of men, lest, observing you to 
be neglectful of your parents, they should all contemn you, and you 
should then be found destitute of friends ; for if men surmise that you 
are ungrateful toward your parents, no one will believe that if he does 
you a kindness he will meet with gratitude in return."* 

Although children, Avhen of age,belonp^ legally to themselves, 
there are yet two serious circunistances, where they should 
exhaust all the forms of respect and submission before they 
make a harsh use of the rights which the law grants them : 
these are marriage, and the choice of a profession. In the first 

* Xenophoii's MrmorahiUa of Socrates, translation bv J. y. Watso-.i, B. II., Chap. 2. 

10 



218 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

case, both the law and morality require the consent of the 
parents ; and it is only as a last extremity, and after three re- 
spectful appeals to them, that proceedings may go on. Here 
again, although the law permits it, it may be said that, except 
in extreme and exceptional cases, it is always better not to 
proceed, but wait till some change of circumstances brings 
about a change in the mind of the parents. In fact, the par- 
ents' resistance in these cases is generally in the interest of 
the children ; they wish to protect them against the impulses 
of their passions. They have, besides, a sort of right to inter- 
dict the admission into the family and the taking of its name 
to any one that might be unworthy of these favors. 

The obligation not to marry without the consent of the par- 
rents (except in extreme cases) does not carry with it the ob- 
ligation of marrying against one's will in order to obey them. 
This would be the violation of a duty toward others; you 
have no right to jeopardize the happiness of a third party, that 
you might on your side practice the duty of obedience. To 
marry with repugnance is contrary to duty, for it is entering 
into the bonds of an unhappy union. 

As to the choice of a profession, the obligation to conform 
to the desires and the will of the [)arents is less strict than in 
marriage ; and it is obvious that the first, the stricter duty 
here, is to choose the profession one is best fitted for. But as 
there is here also, on the side of the children, much inexperi- 
ence (as among the various professions there arc some very 
difficult, even dangerous ones, where success is often very rare, 
and which for this reason are all the more tempting), it is 
clear that in such a case it is the children's duty, except where 
there is an irresistible proclivity, to allow themselves to be 
guided by a more enliglitened and more prudent experience. 
At any rate, the strict duty is to confer with the parents, con- 
sult their superior wisdom, and delay as much as possible a 
final resolve. These pnncii)les once set down, it is certain 
that, on the other hand, one should not, to obey one's parents, 
follow a profession one felt no capacity for whatsoever. 



FAMILY DUTIES. ^19 

There the duties toward society and toward one's self take 
precedence of the family duties. 

128. Fraternal duties. — Socrates, who has spoken so well 
of the duties of husbands and wives and the duties of children, 
shall here again be our guide as to the duties of brothers and 
sisters. Two brothers, Chsesephon and Chaesecrates, did not 
live well together. Socrates tried to reconcile them with each 
other by an exhortation, of which the following gives the 
principal points:* 

1. Brothers are better than riches; for they are things en- 
dowed with reason, wliilst wealth is but a senseless thing; 
brothers are a protection; riches, on the contrary, need pro- 
tection. 

2. One had rather live with fellow-citizens than live alone ; 
hoAv much more would one not rather live with brothers. 

3. Is not the being born of the same parents, the having 
been brought up together, very strong reasons to love one 
another 1 Even among brutes a certain affection springs up 
between those that are raised together. 

4. Even though our brothers be of dispositions difficult to 
live with, we should make advances to bring them nearer to 
us. 

5. It is for the youngest to make advances to the oldest. 

A modern moralist, Silvio Pellico,t expresses most deli- 
cately the duties of brothers and sisters in their intercourse 
w^ith each other : 

" To practice properly, in one's relations with men, the 
divine science of charity, one must have learned it at home. 
AMiat ineffable sweetness is there in the thought : ' We are 
the children of the same mother ! . . .' If you wish to be a 
good brother, beware of selfishness. Let each of your brothers, 
each of your sisters, see that their interests are as dear to you 
as your own. If one of them commits a fault, be indulgent 
to it. Rejoice over their virtues; imitate them." 

* Xenophon's Memorabilia. Translation J. S. Watson. 
+ Des Devoirs de Vhomme, ch. xii. 



220 ELEMEN^TS OF MORALS. 

" The familiarity of the fireside should never make you for- 
get to be courteous toward your brothers. 

" Be still more courteous toward your sisters. Their sex is 
endowed with a powerful attraction ; it is a divine gift which 
they use to make the house pleasant and cheerful. You will 
find in your sisters the delicious charm of womanly virtues ; 
and since nature has made them more feeble and sensitive 
than you, be attentive to them in their troubles, console them, 
and do not cause them any unnecessary pain. 

" Those who contract the habit of being ill-natured and rude 
toward their brothers and sisters, are rude and ill-natured 
toward everybody else. If the home-intercourse is tender 
and true, man will experience in his other social relations the 
same need of esteem and noble affections." 

129. Duties of masters toward their servants. — One 
of the most important functions of home administration, is 
the management of domestics. It comprises two things : 
choice and direction. It is well known how important in a 
household the choice of servants is ; as it is they who attend 
to the marketing and pay the bills, so that the finances of the 
house are, to some extent, in their hands. ^ But this is but 
one of the lesser features of the influence of servants in a 
household ; the most serious one is their familiar intercourse 
with the children ; and it is there especially that it becomes 
necessary to make sure of their fidelity and honesty. Yet to 
make a careful and successful choice is of no use, if one is igno- 
rant of the art of directing and governing, which consists in 
a just medium between too much lenity and too much severity. 
The master of the house should, of course, always have his 
eyes open, but he should also know that no human being 
learns to do things well, if he is not allowed to act with some 
sort of freedom. 

Survcillaiice and confidence are the two principles of a wise 
domestic government. Without the first, one is apt to be 
cheated ; without the second, one cheats one's self in depriving 

* A European custom.— Transi. 



FAMILY DUTIES. 221 

the servant of the most energetic elements of human will, re- 
sponsibility and honor. "^ 

The master, again, should avoid being violent and brutal 
toward liis servants. He should require of them all that is just, 
yet without pushing his requirements to the point of persecu- 
tion. Many persons deprive themselves of good servants, be- 
cause they cannot patiently bear with the inevitable defects 
inherent in human nature. 

On the other hand, the servant owes his master : 1, an ab- 
solute honesty. As it is the servants who do the marketing 
and pay the bills, they have the funds of the family in their 
hands. The more one is obliged to trust them the more are they 
bound to restrain themselves from the slightest act of dis- 
honesty. 2. They owe obedience and exactness in the duties 
pertaining to their service. 3. They should, as much as pos- 
sible, attach themselves to the persons whose service they 
have entered ; the longer they stay with them, the more will 
they be considered as part of the family, and the gTcater will 
be their right to the regard and affection due to age and 
fidelity. 

130. Duties of children toward servants. — It is not only 
the master and mistress of the house that have duties to fidfill 
toward servants, but the children also. The latter are, in 
general, too much disposed to treat servants as instruments of 
their wishes and the playthings of their caprices. Although 
slavery is no longer allowed, some cliildren, if let alone, would 
very soon re-establish it for their own benefit. To command, 
insult, beat, are the not uncommon modes of procedure -with 
children that are left entirely free in their relations with in- 
feriors. The latter, on the other hand, do not hesitate to em- 
ploy force, in the absence of the masters, and pass readily from 
slavery to tyranny. All such conduct is reprehensible. The 
servant should never be allowed to strike ; but he should him- 
self not be struck or insulted. In childhood, it is for the 
parents to oversee the relations between their servants and 

* See our work on La Famille (3d lecture). 



222 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

children. Later it is for the children themselves, when they 
have reached the age of reason, to know that they must not 
treat servants like brutes. The same observations may be ap- 
plied to workmen, in circumstances where workmen are in 
some respect in the service of the family. 

Although servants are no longer slaves, nor even serfs, one 
may still, modifying its meaning, quote Seneca's admirable 
protestation against slavery : " They are slaves ! rather say 
they are men ! They are slaves ! Not any more than thou ! 
He whom thou callest a slave, was born of the same seed as 
thyself ; he enjoys the same sky, breathes the same air, lives 
and dies the same as thou." Seneca closes this eloquent- 
apostrophe with a maxim recalling the Gospel : " Live with 
thy inferiors, as thou wouldst thy superior should live with 
thee." 

As to the duties of servants to their masters, they belong to 
the class of professional duties which we shall take up further 
on (Chap. XIIL). 



CHAPTEE XI. 



DUTIES TOWARD OJS^E'S SELF — DUTIES RELATIVE TO 
THE BODY. 



SUMMARY. 

Have we duties toward ourselves ? — The person of a man should 
not only be sacred to others, it also should be so to himself. 

Even though man ceased to be in any relation with other men (as, for 
example, in a desert island), he would still have duties to perform. 

The duty of self-preservation. — Suicide. — Arguments of Rousseau 
for and against suicide. 

The different standpoints from which one may condemn suicide : 
1, either as contrary to the duties toward men ; 2, or to the duties 
toward God ; 3, or, lastly, to the duties toward ourselves. 

Kant's fundamental argument against suicide : 

" Man cannot abdicate his personality as long as he has duties to per- 
form, which is the same as to say, as long as he lives." 

Case of conscience. — Xot to confound suicide with self-sacrifice. 

Of voluntary mutilations and of the duty to avoid injuring one's health. 
That this duty should be understood in a wide sense, and not as an 
encouragement to constant preoccupation about the condition of one's 
body. 

Of cleanliness. 

Other duties concerning the body.— Temperance.— Temperance 
recommended for two reasons : 1, as necessary to health, and conse- 
quently as a corollary to the duty of self-preservation ; 2, as necessary 
to human dignity, which, through intemperance, falls below the 
brute. 

Of the moderate use of sensual pleasures. That Ave should elevate them 
by attaching to them ideas and sentiments. 

Other virtues : Decency, modesty, propriety, etc. 

131. Have we duties toward ourselves? — This has been 



224 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

disputed, and it seems rather strange that it should have been. 
No one, say the jurists, binds himself to himself ; no one does 
himself injustice, they say again. In short, man belongs to 
himself : is not that the first of ownerships, and the basis of all 
the others ? 

" No," rephes Victor Cousin, "from man's being free and belonging 
to himself, it is not to be concluded that he has all power over himself. 
From the fact alone that he is endowed with both liberty and intelli- 
gence, I, on the contrary, conclude that he cannot, without failing in 
his duty, degrade his liberty any more than he can degrade his intelli- 
gence. Liberty is not only sacred to others ; it is so in itself. 

" This obligation imposed on the moral personality to respect itself, it 
is not I who established it ; I cannot, therefore, destroy it. Is the 
respect I have for myself founded on one of those arbitrary agreements 
wliich cease to be when the two parties freely renounce it ? Are the two 
contracting parties here I and myself ? No ; there is one of the parties 
that is not I, namely, humanity itself, the moral personality, the human 
essence which does not belong to me, which is not my property, Avhich 
I can no more degrade or wound in myself than I can in others. There 
is not even any agreement here or contract. 

" Finally, man would still have duties, even though he ceased to be 
in any relation with other men. As long as he has any intelligence and 
liberty left, the idea of right remains in him, and with that idea, duty. 
If he were all at once thrown upon a desert island, duty would still 
follow him there." * 

Kant has likewise defended the existence of the duties of 
man toward himself. 

" Supposing," he says, " that there were no duties of this kind, there 
would not be any duties then of any kind ; for I can only think myself 
under obligations to others, so far as I am under obligations to myself. 
.... Thus do ])eoi)le say, when the question is to save a man or his 
life : I owe this to myself ; I owe it to myself to cultivate such disposi- 
tions of mind as make of me a fit member of society {Doctrine de la 
vertu, trad. fran9. de Barni, p. 70)." 

132. Duties concerning the body. Duty oFself-ppesep- 
vation. — Tlie duties toward one's self are generally divided 

* Le Vrai, le Beau et Ic Bicn. Lcct. xxi., ch. xxii. 



DUTIES TOWARD Oi^^E^S SELF. 225 

into two classes : duties toward the body , duties toward the 
said. Kant justly criticised this distinction, and asks liow can 
there be any obligations toward the body — that is to say, to- 
ward a mass of matter — which, apart from the soul, is nothing 
better than any of the rough bodies which surround us. Kant 
proposes to substitute for this distinction the following : duties 
of man toward himself as an animal (that is, united to ani- 
mality by the corporeal functions), and the duties of man to- 
ward himself as a moral being. 

Considered as an animal, man is united to a body, and this 
union of soul and body is what is called life. Hence a first 
duty which may be considered a fundamental duty, and the 
basis of all the others, namely, the duty of self-preservation. 
It is, in fact, obvious that the fulfillment of all our other duties 
rests on this prior one. 

Before bemg a duty, self-preservation is for man an instinct, 
and even so energetic and so uniA^ersal an instinct that there 
would seem to be very little need to transform it into duty : so 
much so is it an instinct that man has rather to combat in 
himself the cowardly tendency which attaches him to life, 
than that which induces him to seek death. Yet does it 
happen, and unfortunately too often, that men, crazed by 
despair, come to believe that they have a right to free them- 
selves of life : this is what is called suicide. It is, therefore, 
very important in morals to combat this fatal idea, and to 
teach men that, even though life ceases to be a pleasure, there 
is still a moral obligation which they cannot escape. 

133. Suicide. — J. J. Rousseau and Kant. — The question 
of suicide was treated with great ability by J. J. Rousseau in 
one of his most celebrated works. He put into the mouth of 
two personages, on the one side, the apology for, and on the 
other, the condemnation of suicide. We will not cite here 
these two pieces, the eloquence of which is somewhat de- 
clamatory, but we will give an abstract of the principal 
arguments presented on each side in favor of its own posi- 
tion. 



22G ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

Arguments in favor of suicide. — 1. It is said that life is 
not our own because it was given us. — IS'ot so, for, just 
because it was given us, is it our own. God has given us 
arms, and yet we allow them to be cut off when necessary. 

2. Man, it is said, is a soldier on sentry on earth : he should 
not leave his post without orders. — So be it ; but misfortune 
is precisely that order which informs me that I have nothing 
more to do here below. 

3. Suicide, it is said again, is rebellion against Providence. 
— But how 1 it is not to escape its laws one puts an end to 
one's life ; it is to execute them the better : in whatever 
place the soul may be, it will always be under God's govern- 
ment. 

4. " If thy slave attempted to kill himself," says Socrates to 
Cebes in the Plioedo, " wouldst thou not punish him for trying 
unjustly to deprive thee of thy property ? " — Good Socrates, 
what sayest thou ? Does one no longer belong to God when 
dead ? Thou art quite wrong ; thou shouldst have said : "If 
thou puttest on thy slave a garment which is in his way in the 
service he owes thee, Avouldst thou punish him for laying this 
garment aside in order the better to serve thee 1 " 

5. It is said that life is never an evil. — Yet has nature 
implanted in us so great a horror of death that life to certain 
beings must surely be an evil, since they resolve to renounce it. 

6. It is said that suicide is a cowardice. — How many cow- 
ards, then, among the ancients ! Arria, E})onina, Lucretia, Bru- 
tus, Cato ! Certainly there is courage in suffering the evils 
one cannot avoid ; but it were insanity to suffer voluntarily 
those from which one can free himself. 

7. There are unquestionably duties that should attach us to 
life. — But he who is a burden to every one, and of no use to 
himself, why should ho not have a right to quit a place 
where his C()uq)laints are importunate and his sufferings use- 
less? 

8. Why should it be allowable to get cured of the gout and 
not of life 1 If we consider the will of God, what evil is there 



DUTIES TOWARD ONE'S SELF. 227 

for ns to combat, that he has not himself sent us ? Are we 
not permitted, then, to change the nature of any thing because 
all that is, is as he wished it 1 

9. " Thou shall not kill," says the Decalogue. — But if this 
commandment is to be taken literally, one should kill neither 
criminals nor enemies. 

Next comes the answer of my lord Edward, namely, J. J. 
Eousseau : 

Arguments against suicide. — 1. If life has no moral end, one 
can unquestionably free one's self from it when it is too pain- 
ful : if it has one, it is not permitted to set it arbitrary limits. 

2. The wish to die does not constitute a right to die ; other- 
wise, a similar wish might justify all crimes. 

3. Thou sayest : Life is an evil ; but if thou hast the cour- 
age to b^r it, thou wilt some day say : Life is a good. 

4. Physical pain may in extreme cases deprive one of the 
use of reason and will ; but moral pain should be borne bravely. 

5. No man is wholly useless ; he has always some duties 
to fulfill. 

It has been justly observed, we think, that this second 
letter is feebler than the first, and that Rousseau displayed 
more talent in justifying suicide than in combating it ; at any 
rate, the following peroration will always be considered an 
admirable passage to quote : 

" Listen to me, thou foolish youth : thou art dear to me, I 
pity thy errors. If thou hast at the bottom of thy heart the 
least feeling of virtue left, come to me, let me teach thee to 
love life. Every time thou shalt be tempted to put an end to 
it, say to thyself : ' Let me do one more good deed before I 
die ! ' Then go and seek some poverty to relieve, some mis- 
fortune to console, some oppressed wretch to protect. If this 
contemplation does not stop thee to-day, it will stop thee to- 
morrow, or the day after, or perhaps for the rest of thy life. 
If it does not stop thee, go then and die ; for thou art not 
worthy to live." 

Suicide may be considered from three different standpoints. 



228 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

Avhicli are all three involved and blended in the preceding 
discussion : 

1. Suicide is a transgression of our duty toward other men 
(inasmuch as, however miserable, one can always render 
some service to others). 

2. Suicide is contrary to our duties toward God (inas- 
much as man abandons thereby, without being relieved of it, 
the post intrusted to him in this world). 

3. Finally — and this is for us here the essential point — sui- 
side is a violation of the duty of man toward himself ; as, all 
other considerations set aside, he is bound to self-preservation 
as a moral personality, and has no right whatsoever upon him- 
self. 

Kanfs discussion. — Kant is, of all philosophers, the one 
who most insisted on this latter view of the matter, and devel- 
oped it with the greatest force. 

"It seems absurd," he says, "that man could do himself injury." 
( Volenti non fit injuria*) Thus did the stoic regard it as a prerogative 
of the sage, to be able, quietly and of his own free wall, to step out of 
this life as he would out of a room full of smoke. But this very cour- 
age, this strength of soul which enables us to brave death, revealing to 
us a something man prizes more than life, should have been to him [the 
stoic] all the greater incentive not to destroy in himself a being 
endowed with a faculty so great, so superior to all the most powerful of 
sensuous motives, and consequently not to dei)rive himself of life. 

Man cannot abdicate his personality as long as there are duties for 
him, consequently as long as he lives ; and there is contradiction in 
granting him the right of freeing himself from all obligation — that is to 
say, acting as freely as if he had no need of any kind of permission. To 
annihilate in one's own person the subject of morality, is to extirpate 
from the world as much as possible the existence of morality itself; it 
is disposing of one's self as of an instrument, for a simply arbitrary end; 
it is lowering humanity in one's own person. 

134. Resume of the discussion on suicide.— From the 

above point of view the sophisms of Saint-Preux in J. J. 
Rousseau are easily controverted. I can cut my arm off, you 
say ; why can I not destroy my body % — But in destroying a 

♦ There is no injustice done to liini wlio consents to it. 



DUTIES TOWARD ONE^S SELF. 220 

withered or mortified arm, I nowise injure the human person- 
ality, which remains within me entire; and, on the contrary, 
I deliver the moral personality within me of a physical trouble 
which deprives it of its liberty, 

I can, you say, avoid pain : no one is obliged to bear 
a toothache, if he can free himself from it. — Yes, unquestion- 
ably ; but in finding a remedy for physical pain, instead of 
wronging the moral personality of man, I free it, on the con- 
trary, of the evils which, in crushing it, tend to debase it. 
Besides, there are, moreover, pains from which it is not right to 
free one's self. For example, it is not right to leave the sick- 
bed of one dear to lis because his pains are unbearable. 

But life is full of misery, and, in certain cases, the evil is 
without any compensation. — The question is not Avhether life 
is agreeable or painful : it might be a question, if pleasure 
w^ere the end of life ; but if tliis end is duty, there are no cir- 
cumstances, however painful, which do not leave room for the 
possibility of fulfilling a duty. 

It is a sophism, they say, to call suicide a cowardice ; for it 
requires a great deal of courage to take one's life. — Xo one 
denies that there is a certain amount of physical courage 
coupled with taking one's life ; but there is a still greater 
courage, a moral courage, in braving pain, poverty, slavery. 
Suicide is therefore a relative cowardice. It matters not, 
moreover, whether suicide be a brave or a cowardly act; what 
is certain is, that man cannot destroy within himself the agent 
subject to the law of duty without implicitly denying this law 
and all there is within contained. 

Finally, it will be said that the moral personality is distinct 
from the body, and that in destroying the body, one does not 
injure the personality. But we shall answer, that the only 
personality of which we can dispose, and of which we have 
the care, is that which is actually united to our physical body. 
It is that very personality that has duties to perform ; it is 
that which we cannot sacrifice to a state of things absolutely 
unknown to us. 



230 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

As to our duties toward others, there is no one that has 
ahsokitely no service to render to his fellow-men; and each of 
us is always able to render them the greatest of services, 
namely, to give them the example of virtue, courage, gentle- 
ness, and patience. Finally, in respect to God, if we look 
upon life as a trial, man has no right to free himself of this 
trial before it is ended ; if we look upon it as a punishment, 
we have no right to cut short its duration as long as nature 
has not pronounced on it. Can we not, then, it is asked, 
change any thing in the order of things, since all is disposed 
by God ? — Certainly we can ; we can, as we see fit, modify 
things, but not persons. 

God, it is said again, has given us life: we can, then, do 
with it what we like. — But life is not purely a gift, an abso- 
lute gift: it is bound up in the moral personality which is not 
in our power, and which is not to be considered a thing to 
traffic with, give away, or destroy. 

To admit the legitimacy of suicide, is to admit that man be- 
longs to himself as a tiling belongs to its master ; it is implic- 
itly to admit the right to traffic with one's own personality 
and, according to Kant's energetic expression, " to treat one's 
self as a means and not as an end." 

135. Suicide from a sense of honop.^All suicide, having 
for its motive the escape from pain (exception being made, of 
course, of suicides caused by insanity), should be condemned 
without qualiH cation. But is it the same with suicides insti- 
gated by a feeling of honor, either to avoid an outrage one is 
threatened with, or to escape the shame of an outrage one has 
suffered ? 

We should certainly not blame too severely acts that have 
their source in ])urity and greatness of soul, and in such mat- 
ters it is yet b(;tter to forgive the excess, than accustom one's 
mind, by too cold reasoning, to look upon dislionor with 
patience or complacency. After all, the love of life speaks 
enough for itself witliout its being necessary to give it too 
much encouragement. Nevertheless, to consider the matter 



DUTIES TOWARD ONE'S SELF. 231 

closely, it is certain that no one is responsible for acts he has 
not consented to ; that, consequently, an act imposed on us by 
force, cannot inflict real dishonor ; that ill-natured interpreta- 
tions should have no weight with a strong mind, and that con- 
science is the only judge. 

" We should,"' says St. Augustin, speaking of Lucretia's 
suicide, "resist the temptation of suicide when we have no 
crime to atone for. . . . Why should a man who has done no 
harm to another, do some to himself ? Is he justified in kill- 
ing an innocent man in his own person, to prevent the real 
criminal from perpetrating his design, and would he crim- 
inally cut short his own life for fear it be cut short by 
another 1 " ^ 

With still greater reason will suicide be condemned in cases 
where shame, if there is any, can make reparation. Let us, 
for example, suppose the case of a merchant obliged to suspend 
payments. This suspension may be caused by overwhelming 
circumstances, as, for example, unforeseen physical catastrophes, 
or negligence, imprudence, or even dishonesty on the part of 
the merchant. In the first case, the merchant is obviously 
iimocent,t and, as we have already remarked, it is an outward 
and not a real shame. Instead of giving way before a misfor- 
tune, he should, on the contrary, strive against it and find in 
himself the means to repair the damage. If, on the contrary, 
it is tlirough his own fault, through dissipation, laziness, etc., 
that the trouble was brought about, he is all the more obliged 
to make honorable amends, and by his courage and energy 
rehabilitate himself. If, finally, the evil is still graver, if he 
failed through lack of honor, he owes it to himself to expiate 

* St. Augustin, Cit-ede Dieu, I., xvij., trad. d'Em. Saisset. 

t One nill say, perhaps, that the merchant is never innocent, for he should have 
foreseen the risks which threatened him, and provided against them. But there is 
no commerce without risks. There is, then, a certain amount of risks which it is 
allowed and even necessary to run, or else suppress commerce altogether. For ex- 
ample, a merchant in times of peace certiiinly knows that there may suddenly arise 
a cause of war, and he must make provision against the eventuality ; but if all his 
transactions were influenced by that idea, commerce in times of peace would not 
differ from commerce in times of war, and would consequently be null. 



232 ELEMENTS OE MORALS, 

his fault, for in trying by suicide to escape a merited shame, 
he only eschews a well-deserved punishment. 

Modern conscience refuses even to admire without reserve, 
the noblest and most generous of suicides, those, namely 
occasioned by the grief over a great cause lost : I mean Cato's 
suicide. The capital error of this kind of suicides (laying 
aside the reasons already pointed out), is to think that a cause 
can be lost. On the one hand, there is never any reason strong 
enough to persuade any one that what is lost to-day, is defini- 
tively lost ; and if each of those who belong to that cause 
should kill himself, he would only contribute his share toward 
the loss of that cause. Besides, even supposing a cause to be 
definitively and absolutely lost, the honor of humanity re- 
quires none the less that the cause be faithfully and inviolably 
represented to the end by its adherents : for if they do not 
serve thereby their own cause, they serve at least that of loy- 
alty, fidelity, and honor, which is the highest of all. Certainly 
an act as impressive as Avas Cato's, shows how far man can 
carry the devotion to a creed, and such heroism elevates the 
soul : thus may we admire it as an individual act, but not as 
an example to be followed. For, although it presents itself 
to us under a heroic form, it is, after all, nothing but an 
escape from responsibility. 

136. Suicide and sacrifice. — One should not confound 
with suicide, the voluntary death — that is to say, the death 
dared and even sought after for the sake of humanity, the 
family, country, truth. For instance, Eustache de Saint 
Pierre and his companions, Curtius, d'Assas, voluntarily sought 
or accepted death when they could have avoided it. Are 
these suicides ? If we carried the matter as far as that, all 
devotion would have to be suppressed altogether. For the 
height of devotion is to brave death ; and one would have to 
condemn even the man who exposes himself to a simple peril, 
since he has no assurance that this peril may not lead him to 
deatli. But it is evident that the suicide deserving condemna- 
tion is that which has for its source either selfishness, or fear, 



233 

or a false sense of honor. To carry the subject further would 
be sacrificing other more important duties, and giving to self- 
ishness itself the appearance and prestige of virtue. 

137. Mutilations and mortifications. — Care of one's 
health. — One of the obvious consequences of the duty of self- 
preservation, is to avoid voluntary mutilations. For example, 
those who mutilate themselves to escape military service, fail 
first in their duty to their country, and next in their duty to 
themselves. For, the body being the instrument of the soul, 
it is forbidden to destroy any part of it without necessity. 
This is partial suicide. 

Must we count among the number of voluntary mutilations, 
the religious mortifications or macerations by which the devout 
manifest their piety 1 If it can be proved that such practices 
are injurious to health, it is certain that they should be con- 
demned from a moral point of view. But if they are nothing 
more than self-imposed privations of pleasure, no one can disap- 
prove of them. For man is always permitted to give up this 
or that pleasure. Thus abstention from animal-flesh which the 
school of Pythagoras taught its adepts, can not be considered 
contrary to the duty of self-preservation, as long as it cannot 
be demonstrated that this diet is unfavorable to health. 

'Besides, this duty not to injure one's health, must itself be 
understood in a large and general sense. Otherwise, taken too 
strictly, it would become a narrow and selfish preoccupation, 
unworthy of man. One should select and regularly observe 
such diet as, from general or personal experience, would seem 
most suitable to the preservation of health ; but, this principle 
once established, precautions too minute and circumspect 
lower man in the estimation of others, and, if nothing more, give 
him a tinge of the ridiculous, which he ought to avoid. One 
should therefore not take as a model the Italian Cornaro, who 
had a pair of scales at his meals to weigh his food and drink, 
although this method, it is said, prolonged his life to a hun- 
dred years. The learned Kant himself, although he was very 
high-minded, carried the rules he had laid down for his health 



234 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

to extravagant minuteness. For example, in order to spare 
his chest, he had made it a rule, never to breathe through his 
mouth when in the street, and, to faithfully observe this rule, 
he always walked alone, so as not to be obliged to speak. 
Care carried to such minute details falls into a sort of little- 
ness very unbecoming a being destined for higher thoughts 
than mere physical self-preservation. One may say of such ex- 
aggerated prudence Avhat Rousseau, though most inappropri- 
ately, said of medicine : " It prevents illriess less than it in- 
spires us with the fear of it ; it does not so much ward off 
death as it gives us beforehand a taste of it ; it wears life out 
instead of prolonging it; and even if it did prolong it, it 
would still be to the prejudice of the race, since it takes us 
away from society by the cares it lays upon us, and from our 
duties by the fear it inspires us with." * 

But, if too minute attention to health is not to be recom- 
mended, one cannot be too observant, within a reasonable 
measure, of course, of the obligation to follow a sensible and 
moderate diet, which is as favorable to the mind as it is to 
the body. Hygiene, in this respect, forms no inconsiderable 
part of morals. 

To avoid sitting up late ; to avoid too long or too rich 
repasts ; to make an even distribution of one's time ; to get up 
early ; to dress moderately warm : are measures recommended 
by prudence ; this, however, does not exclude the liberty of 
doing away with these rules when more important ones are 
necessary. The principle consists in not granting the body 
too much, which is the best means of strengthening it. 

The ancients attached a vast importance to the strength and 
beauty of the body ; and for this reason they encouraged gym- 
nastics ; these were an essential part of their education. This 
taste for pliysical exercise seems to be reviving at the present 
day ; it enters more and more into our public education, and 
its good results are already felt. Men should, as much as pos- 
sible, reserve some time and leisure for such exercises ; for 

* Rousseau's Emile, I., i. 



235 

thoy not only impart strength, health, and skill to the body, 
but they accustom the soul to courage, preparing it by degrees 
to encounter more serious perils ; the same may be said of 
military exercises. 

138. Cleanliness. — Among the virtues belonging to the 
duty of self-preservation, there is one which a philosopher of 
the XYIII. century considered the tirst and the inother of all 
the others, namely, cleanliness. This is saying much ; and it 
may be thought that Yolney, in his moral catechism, exag- 
gerated somewhat this virtue. It is, however, one of very 
great importance, for its opposite is especially repugnant. 
Cleanliness, moreover, in addition to the part it plays, as we 
know, in the preservation of health, is often indicative of 
other virtues of a higher order. Cleanliness presupposes 
order, a certain delicacy of habits, a certain dignity; it is 
really the first condition of civilization ; wherever we meet 
with it, it announces that higher wants than those of mere 
animality have been or are soon to be felt ; wherever it is 
wanting, we may be certain that civilization is only apparent, 
and that it has yet many deficiencies to supply. 

139. Other duties in regard to the body. — Temper- 
ance. — We have just seeu that man has no right to destroy his 
body, or mutilate it, or, in short, uselessly to reduce or enfee- 
ble its power ; in a Avord, he must not voluntarily injure his 
physical functions : for, in impairing himself as a physical 
being, he thereby injures his personality, which is the prin- 
ciple of all morality. But there are two things to be distin- 
guished in the functions of the human body : on one side, 
their utility, and on the other, the pleasure which attends 
their healthful exercise. The same function may be exercised 
with more or less pleasure on the side of the senses. Hence 
a moral problem : What is to be granted to the pleasures of 
the senses? — Certainly for the proper exercise of their func- 
tions a certain sensuous agreeableness is necessary ; a good 
appetite, for instance, is a pleasant seasoning which excites 
and facilitates digestion. Nevertheless, we all know that 



236 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

there is not an exact and continued proportion between the 
pleasure of the senses and physiological necessity ; we know 
that enjoyment may by far exceed necessity, and that health 
even often requires a certain limitation in enjoyment. 

We know, for example, that the pleasures of the palate may 
be far more sought after and prolonged than is necessary for 
the gratification of the appetite. Man needs very little to 
live on ; but he can continue to tickle his palate long after his 
hunger is satisfied. Thirst, in particular, has given rise to a 
multitude of refinements invented by human industry, and 
wliich are but very distantly related to the principle which 
has given them birth. Wine and alcoholic drinks, which, 
used in moderation, may be useful tonics, are stimulants de- 
manding a constant renewal : the more they are indulged in, 
the more they provoke and captivate the imagination. 

From this disproportion and incongruity which exist be- 
tween the pleasures of the senses and the real wants of the 
body, arise vices, certain habits, namely, which sacrifice want 
to pleasure, and the consequence of which is the depravation 
and ruin of the natural functions. Pleasure, in fact, is, in a 
certain measure, the auxiliary, and in some sort, the inter- 
preter of nature ; but beyond a certain limit, it can only 
satiate itself at the expense of the legitimate function, and by 
solidarity, at the expense of all the others. Thus too much 
eating destroys the digestive functions ; stimulating drinks 
burn the stomach and seriously injure the nervous system. 
The same, and with still graver consequences, attends upon 
the pleasures attached to the function of reproduction. 

"Who would," says Bossuet, " dare think of other excesses which 
reveal themselves in a still more dangerous manner? Who, I say, 
would dare sj)eak of them, or dare think of them, since they cannot be 
sjioken of without shame nor thought of without peril, though it be but 
to condemn them ? God, once more, who wouhl dare speak of this 
deep and shamefu] plague of nature, tliis concupiscence wliich binds the 
soul to the body with bonds so tender and so violent — bonds man can 
acarcely defend himself against, and which cause such frightful disorders 



DUTIES TOWARD ONE'S SELF. 237 

among the human race ! Woe to the earth ! woe to the earth, from whose 
secret passions rise continually vapors so thick and black, concealing 
from us both sky and light, but of which we are reminded through the 
lightnings and thunder-bolts they send forth against the corruption of 
the human race ! " * 

The abuse of the pleasures of the senses is in general called 
intemperance, and the proper use of these pleasures, temperance. 
Gormandizing is the abuse of the pleasures of eating ; intoxi- 
cation or drunkenness, the abuse of the pleasures of drinking ; 
immodesty or lust, the abuse of the pleasures attached to the 
reproduction of the species. The opposites of these three 
vices are, to the firot two, sobriety, to the last, chastity. 

The duty of temperance is enforced by two considerations : 

1, intemperance being, as experience shows, the ruination of 
health, is thereby contrary to the duty of self-preservation ; 

2, intemperance destroying the intellectual faculties, and 
making us unfit for any energetic and manly action, is con- 
trary to the duty imposed on us to respect our moral faculties 
and protect against all injury within us tlie free personality 
which constitutes the essence of humanity. 

Kant does not admit that the first of these considerations — 
that, namely, which is deduced from the interest of our health — 
has any validity in morals : " Yice," he says, " should not be 
judged from the damage it does to man, for to resist it would 
then be resisting it for reasons of comfort and commodity, 
which could never be a principle to found a duty on, but only 
a measure of prudence." This is true; but if we have in the 
foregoing pages established that self-preservation is one of 
man's duties, that he should not destroy his health or abridge 
his life, an evident corollary of this principle is to avoid in- 
temperance, because intemperance abridges life. This con- 
sideration is then as legitimate from the standpoint of morality 
as from that of interest. 

The ancients have spoken admirably about temperance. 
Socrates in particular, in Xenoplion's Memorabilia, showed 

♦ JBossuet, Tw.Uc de la concupiscence, Ch. iv, 



238 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 

clearly that temperance makes of man a free man, and in- 
temperance, a brute and a slave. 

' ' Tell me, Eutydemus, tliinkest thou not that liberty is a precious 
and honorable thing for an individual and for a State ? — It is the most 
precious of all. — Thinkest thou him then who allows himself to be ovei'- 
ruled by the pleasures of the body, and thereby disabled from doing 
good, a free man ? — Not the least. — Perhaps callest thou liberty the 
power to do good, and servitude the being prevented from it by obsta- 
cles. — Precisely. — The intemperate then appear to thee as slaves? — Yes, 
by Jupiter, and rightl)'' so. — What thinkest thou of masters who hin- 
der the doing good, and oblige one to do wrong. — It is, by Jupiter, the 
worst possible kind. — And which is the worst of servitudes ? — To my 
mind that which subjects us to the worst masters. — Then is intemper- 
ance the worst of servitudes ? — So I think." 

Plato, on his side, in a charming picture brings out with 
force the insatiableness of sensual passions : 

"See," says Socrates," "if the temperate man and the disorderlj'- man 
are not like two men having each a large number of casks : the casks of 
the one are in good condition and full, one with wine, another with 
honey, a third M'ith milk, and others with other liquors ; these liquors, 
moreover, are rare and hard to get ; they cost infinite trouble to obtain ; 
their owner having once filled his barrels, pours hencefortli nothing 
more into them ; he has no longer any anxiety concerning them, and is 
perfectly at ease. The other can, it is true, procure the same licjuors, 
but only with difficulty ; his casks, moreover, being leaky and rotten, 
he is obliged to fill them constantly, day and night, lest he be de- 
voured by burning pains. This picture being an image of both lives, 
canst thou say that that of the libertine is happier than that of the 
temperate man ? " 

A second consideration which may be added to the pre- 
ceding one is, that the intemperate man, seeking pleasure, 
does not find it ; pleasure passionately pursued changes even 
into pain : " Intemperance," says Montaigne, " is the pest of 
voluptuousness, whilst temperance is its seasoning. This view 
of the matter is especially that in which tlie epicurean moral- 
ists deliglit ; they always, in morals, compare one i)leasure 
Avith anoth(;r ; but it also holds good for those who ])lace duty 
ab(jve pleasure, for it is likewise a duty to prefer a pure, simple, 



DUTIES TOWARD OKE^S SELF. 239 

delicate pleasure, to a violent, disorderly, or vulgar pleasure. 
From this standpoint, we may say with Plato, in his Pliilebus, 
that the purest pleasures are not the strongest, and even that 
the stronger and more ardent a pleasure may be, the nearer it 
approaches a change into pain. Now, all other duty set aside, 
one should principally seek the pleasures which are not mixed 
with pain, because they are the most natural and the most le- 
gitimate of all : thus is it that the pleasure we derive from a 
satisfied appetite is a proper pleasure, however humble it be, 
whilst the pleasure which carries with it satiety and disgust, 
indicates by that very fact, that it is against nature, or at least 
goes beyond nature. Virtue requires, then, that we prefer the 
first to the second. 

140. The pleasures of the senses. — But provided one is 
content with moderate pleasures, is it allowed to enjoy the 
pleasures of the senses, or must we rather turn our mind, will, 
and soul, from them, and rest content witli the satisfied want ? 
Montaigne, that naive child of nature, supports the first propo- 
sition ; Saint Augustine, the apostle of free grace, advocates the 
second. "Nature," says Montaigne, "has maternally provided 
that the actions she enjoins upon us for the satisfaction of our 
wants be also pleasurable, and she invites us thereto not only 
through reason, but also by the appetite : it is not right to 
corrupt her rules." Not only did Montaigne authorize the 
pleasure of the senses, but he also favored one's delighting in 
it: 

"It should be fitly studied, enjoyed, dwelt upon, to show ourselves 
worthily thankful to him wlio dispenses it. . . . To that degree, did I 
myself follow this precept that in order that the pleasure of sleeping 
shoukl not stupidly escape me, I found it well in former days, to have 
myself disturbed in my sleep, that I might catch the feehng of it. . . . 
Is there any gratification of the senses ? I do not allow them to have it 
all to themselves ; I associate my soul with it, not to lose itself in it, but 
to find itself in it. . . It estimates, thereby, how much it owes God for 
putting the body at its own disposal, allowing it to enjoy in order and 
completeness the soft and agreeable functions whereby it pleased hira to 
compensate us by his mercy for the pains his justice inflicts on us in its 
turn. " 



240 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

t 

St. Augustine looks at the thing from an entirely different 
standpoint : 

" Thou hast taught me, my God," he says, "to look upon food as 
upon a remedy. But when I pass from the suffering of hunger to the re- 
pose of satiety, even in this passage from the one to the other does con- 
cupiscence lay its snares for me ; for this passage is a pleasure, and 
there is no other means to reach the end which by necessity we must 
reach. And although real hunger and thirst — eating and drinking be 
but a matter of health, yet does pleasure join itself thereto as a dan- 
gerous companion, and sometimes it even takes the lead and induces me 
to do from a sense of pleasure, what I only wish to do for my health. 
What is enough for health, is not enough for pleasure, and it is often 
difficult to decide whether it is the wants of the body that require to 
be met, or the deceiving voluptuousness of concupiscence which subju- 
gates us. In this incertitude our miserable soul rejoices because she 
finds therein a defense and an excuse, and, not knowing what is sufficient 
for the maintenance of health, she places the interests of voluptuous- 
ness under the shadow of this pretext. Every day I endeavor to resist 
its temptations and invoke thy hand to save me, and I lay at thy 
feet my incertitudes, because, alas ! my resolution is not yet strong 
enough. " 

It will be seen that the two moralists use both the same 
principle, (namely, the will of Providence) to arrive at entirely 
different conclusions. According to one, pleasure was insti- 
tuted by God only as a means to arrive at the satisfaction of 
bodily wants. It is, then, this satisfaction alone we should 
have in view. According to the other, God allowing necessity 
to be accompanied by pleasure, invites us thereby to enjoy 
pleasure. It seems to us that the two moralists fall here into 
an excess: for, according to us, we should not too much dis- 
trust pleasure nor delight in it too much : pleasure, not being 
an evil in itself, there is no reason why we should reproach 
ourselves for enjoying it: for it is as essential to the nature 
of our being as life itself. We may even say that pleasure is 
already a superior degree of existence, and it is for this rea'son 
that the animal is found to be superior to the plant. Tlie 
scru])les of St. Augustine in regard to pleasure are, therefore, 
exaggerated. On the other hand, I do not approve of Mon- 



DUTIES TOWARD OKE'S SELF. 241 

taigne's refinement either ; it is not proper to bring the reflect- 
ive faculties to bear upon sensual pleasures in order to en- 
hance them : to have one's self waked up in order to take 
cognizance of the sweetness of sleep is an unjustifiable refine- 
ment of sensuality unless one admits pleasure to be the end of 
life. In one word, it is necessary here to avoid at the same 
time exaggerated scruples and self -gratification, as occupying 
the mind more than is necessary with what has but a very in- 
ferior value.* 

Providence, besides, has furnished us means to enhance the 
pleasures of the senses by mingling with them the pleasures of 
the mind or heart. "Banquets," says Kant, "have, besides 
the physical pleasure they procure us, something that tends to 
a moral end, namely, to bring together a certain number of 
people, and to maintain among them an extended interchange 
of kindly feelings." 

And this austere moralist does not hesitate to lay down 
certain rules which should preside over refined festivities. 
We shall be pardoned if we reproduce here some of his witty 
remarks on that subject. " The good cheer," he says, " which 
best accords with humanity, is a good repast in good company ; 
a company which Chesterfield says should not fall below the 
number of the Graces, nor exceed that of the Muses. . . . On 
the contrary, large assemblages and festivities are altogether 
in bad taste. ... To eat alone is unwholesome for a philo- 
sophic scholar : it is no restoration, it is rather exhaustion ; it is 
a labor, and not a play revivifying thought. The man who 
eats alone loses gradually his cheerfulness ; he recovers it, on 
the contrary, when the intermittent jests of a guest give him 
a new subject of animation which, alone, he would not have 
been able to discover." Kant further requires, "that the re- 
past should end with laughter, which, if it is loud and hearty, 

* We may apply here what La Bruyere said of clothes : " There is as much weak- 
ness in avoiding fashion as affecting it. A philosopher allows his tailor to dress him." 
In the same sense is there as nmcli weakness in rebelling against pleasure as in 
seeking it too artfully. The honest man simply enjoys it without thinking of it. 
Between the rigorist and the sensualist, the sensible man has his place. 



^4^ IlLEMENTS OF MORALS. 

is a sort of compliment to nature." Then, after having given 
rules for table-talk, he concludes by saying : " However insig- 
nificant these laws of polite society may appear, especially when 
compared to morality properly so called, they are, neverthe- 
less, a garment wliich becomes virtue, and which may be rec- 
ommended in all seriousness. In fact, thanks to these laws, 
sensual pleasures are ennobled and increased by mixing with 
them intellectual pleasures. It is the same with those other 
pleasures related to the purest and noblest sentiments of the 
heart, and which, thanks to this alliance, may be reconciled 
with perfect chastity. 

141. The exterior bearing. — Propriety. — Decorum. — 
Temperance should not be confined to the inner man ; it should 
manifest itself outwardly through acts, words, through proper 
bearing and attitudes : this is what is called decency ; the 
principal part of which is modesty. 

" We must not," says Cicero, "mind the cynics and certain stoics 
who turn us into ridicule and reproach us for being ashamed to speak of 
things that have nothing shameful in themselves. As for us, let us fol- 
low nature, and abstain from all that might wound the eyes or ears. 
Let our beariug, gait, our looks, gestures, be always true to decency. . . 
There are two things to be avoided : soft and effeminate airs, and a 
boorish and uncouth appearance. " * 

The ancients justly attached great importance to the out- 
ward appearance and countenance ; they regarded it as the 
sign of the freeman. 

" There are," says Cicero, " two kinds of beauty : the one, grace ; the 
other, dignity. Grace belongs to woman, dignity to man. We should, 
therefore, interdict ourselves all that could belie that dignity, either in 
dress, bearing, or gesture. There are movements among our wrestlers 
which are sometimes displeasing, and certain gestures of our comedians 
which are somewhat ridiculous ; they would both recommend themselves 
to the public better by simi)licity and decency. One should be neither 
uncouth nor over-refnied ; in regard to dress, the most modest is the 
best. Avoid, likewise, in your gait, either that excessive slowness (re- 

* CiccruK, TrtiM des devoirs, I., xxxiv. 



DUTIES TOWARD ONE's SELF. 243 

minding one of the imposing gravity of sacred pomps), or too ranch 
haste, which is a sure sign of light-headedness and thoughtlessness." * 

These counsels will not appear minute to those who know 
that the soul is always ready to fall in with the body, and 
that the inner man sets himself naturally to the outer man. 
Disorder in manners, dress, words, bring insensibly Avith them 
disorder in thought, and the outward dignity is but the re- 
flection of the dignity of the soul. 

* Cicero, Traite des devoirs, ch. xxxvi. 



CHAPTEE XII. 

DUTIES RELATING TO EXTERI^AL GOODS. 



SUMMARY. 

The necessity of external goods.— Two sorts of duties.— 1. Those 

relative to use ; 2. Those relative to acquisition. 
Use of external goods. — They are means and not ends: avarice, 
cupidity, prodigality. 

It is not the degree of riches, it is the spirit in which we seek or 
possess them, which is the object of a moral rule. 
Economy, a mean between prodigality and avarice. 

Economy and saving are not only duties of self-preservation, but of 
dignity. 

Maxims of Franklin. — The prodigal and the miser, according to 
Aristotle. 
Acquisition of external things. — Universal law of work. — Servile 
a,nd free work. — Nobility of work. 

Work is a pleasure, a necessity, a dtoty. 

142. Necessity of external goods. — External goods are 
as necessary to man as is liis body : for it is in the first place 
a fundamental law of beings physically organized, that they 
only subsist by means of a continual exchange of their com- 
ponent parts, with foreign substances. Life is a circulation, a 
vortex : we lose and acquire ; we return to nature what it 
gave us, and we take from it back again in exchange what 
we need to repair our losses. There follows from this that 
certain external things, especially food, are indispensable to 
our existence, and that it is absolutely necessary that we be in 
sure possession of them in order to be ourselves sure of life. 

Food is not tlie only need of man. Shelter and clothing, 
without being as rigorously indispensable (especially in warm 



DtJlIES EELATIXG TO EXTEKIs^AL GOODS. 245 

countries), are nevertheless of great utility to maintain a certain 
equilibrium between the temperature of our bodies and the ex- 
ternal temperature ; for it is well known that the derangement 
of this equilibrium is one of the most ordinary causes of illness, 
ligature not having clothed man as she has the other animals, 
he is obhgecl to provide himself with clothes by his industry. 
As for habitations, several animals know as well as man how 
to construct them : for example, beavers and rabbits ; and 
despite the indisputable superiority of his art, this is yet, as 
we see for man, but the development of an instinct which he 
shares with other creatures. 

These various wants, then, which to be satisfied demand a 
certain number of material objects, such as food, houses, cloth- 
ing, etc., carry with them others in their train: for example, 
the need of locomotion to procure what is wanted : hence, 
carriages, boats, etc.; — the need of protecting one's self against 
those who would take from us what we possess : hence, arms 
of every kind ; — the need of repose and order in the house : 
hence, furniture of everv sort ; — in a higher deo-ree acjain the 
need of pleasing the imagination : hence, works of art, pic- 
tures, statuary ; — the need of information : hence, books, etc. 

Finally, and independently of all these different things, there 
are yet two which deserve to be specially noticed, because of 
their particular and distinctive character. These are, first, 
land, which is the common and inexhaustible source of all 
riches, the only thing that does not perish, and which is 
always foimd again in the same quantity after as well as 
before the enjoyment of it ; land, which is as the substance, 
the very basis of riches ; "^ and the second, money (gold or 
silver, with their representative, paper), which is of a nature 
to be exchanged against all kind of merchandise, even land, 
and which, consequently, represents them all. These two 
kinds of things, land and money, the one an essential, the 
other a condensed image, of all wealtli, are the tAvo most 

* We nowise ra 'an to uphold here the doctrine of the physiiXTats for whom land 
was the only riches ; we shall merely say that it is the basis of all wealth. 



^46 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

natural objects of man's desires, because, with the one or the 
other, he can procure all the rest. 

We have not to examine here how man succeeds in securing 
to himself the exclusive enjoyment of these several goods : we 
shall treat the subject of property further on, and shall explain 
in what, and why, it is inviolable. Let it suffice to say here 
that these goods being bound up with the very preservation 
of our existence, the desire and instinct which lead us to 
appropriate them, have nothing blameworthy in themselves. 

External goods being necessary to life, we have to consider 
how we should use them when we possess them, and how 
acquire them when we do not possess them. 

143. Duties relating to the use of external goods.— Cu- 
pidity. — Avarice. — From the very fact that man is a part of 
nature, it manifestly follows that he is allowed to make his 
profit of the goods of nature and to turn them to his use. The 
only question is then to know to what degree and in what 
spirit, he should love material goods, and what use he is to 
make of them, not in regard to others, but in regard to him- 
self. 

A first consideration is that material things or riches have 
no value in themselves ; they are only worth anything as they 
suit our wants. Gold and silver, in particular, are only a value 
because they can be exchanged against useful things, and 
these things, again, are only good because they are useful. 
They are, to employ Kant's favorite formula, means, not ends. 
Now we precisely overthrow this order when we take material 
things as ends and not as means — that is to say, when we 
attribute to tliem an absolute instead of a relative value. This 
happens when, for example, we seek gain for gain's sake; 
when we accumulate riches for the sole pleasure of accunnilat- 
ing them — a vice we call cupidity. 

It is, again, what happens when we enjoy wealth for itself, 
without wishing to turn it to use, and depriving ourselves of 
everything to enjoy tlie tiling itself, which has no other value 
except that of buying other things ; a vice we call avarice. 



DUTIES EELATIN^G TO EXTERNAL GOODS. 247 

The character of these two vices (a character which is not 
only contrary to prudence, but also to virtue) is to transform 
material things into absolute ends. "Avarice," says Kant, 
very justly, " is not only economy misunderstood, but a servile 
subjection to the goods of fortune ; an incapacity of exercising 
mastery over them. ... It is not only opposed to generosity, 
but to liberality of sentiments in general — that is to say, to the 
principle of independence which recognizes nothing but the 
law, and becomes thus a fraud which man commits against 
himself." Cupidity does not, at first glance, appear to be of 
so shameful, and especially so ridiculous a character as avarice ; 
for avarice is a contradiction to one's self (to die rather than 
lose that which can only serve to prevent us from dying), and 
viewed in that light it becomes a comical oddity. But the 
love of gain for gain's sake is, no less than avarice, a servile 
subjection to the goods of fortune. To earn money is a neces- 
sity to which we must submit (and of which we need not be 
ashamed, since it is nature herself that requires it), but it is 
not, and should not be, an end to the soul. The end of 
wealth (without failing in the duties we owe to ourselves) 
should be to make sure of the means of self-preservation, self- 
cultivation, education — yea, even recreation ; for recreation is a 
thing much more refined and noble than accumulation of 
wealth. In one word, according to an old saying, one must 
possess riches and not be possessed by them. 

Such is the spirit in which man should seek or possess 
riches ; and it is for him a strict duty ; but as to the degree 
and limits of possession, as to the extent or quantity of riches, 
morality gives us neither rules nor principles. There is no 
particular limit known beyond which a man in making money 
would become immoral. There is no restriction to his becom- 
ing a millionaire if he can. A morality that should teach to 
look upon the rich as culpable, would be a very false one. The 
contempt for riches, such as the ancient philosophers professed, 
is a very beautiful thing in itself ; but to make good use of 
wealth is also very praiseworthy. Wealth, which in itself 



248 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 

has no value, may have a very great one from the use made 
of it. There is, therefore, no other rule to be observed here 
than the one we have already pointed out, namely, that we 
should not love money for itself, but acquire it or receive it 
as a means to be useful to ourselves and to others. Let us 
add, however, that even with this motive, we should not enter- 
tain too great a desire for gain ; * for to take too much pleasure 
in accumulating a fortune, even to make a good use of it, is 
again another way to become its slave. 

144. Poverty. — The duty of not allowing one's self to be- 
come morally a slave to external goods, carries with it, as its 
corollary, the duty of bearing poverty patiently if circum- 
stances impose it on us. I do not mean here the strength of 
soul with which we should bear adversity of any kind (we 
shall speak of that further on), but the resignation with which 
we should look upon the deprivation of certain things, which 
have no value in themselves. The poor man should, of course, 
endeavor to improve his condition by his work, and we are far 
from recommending to him a stupid insensibility which would 
dry up the sources of all industry ; but what we should 
especially guard against is this uneasy discontent and power- 
less desire which are also a kind of slavery. We should try to 
be satisfied with our lot, as ancient wisdom has it, and if it 
requires a certain amount of heroism to bear extreme misery, 
a limited share of wisdom will be sufficient to enable one to 
accept patiently poverty and mediocrity. 

145. Prodigality. — Maintaining, as we have done, that 
riches have no value in themselves, except as means to satisfy 
our wants, do we mean thereby that they are to be spent in- 
judiciously ? — and would not that appear to be condemning 
saving and economy, virtues which not only morality, but 
wisdom also, recommends ? Shall we, in order to avoid cupid- 
ity and avarice, run into dissipation and prodigality 1 

* There is here, aj^in, a broad duty, for how can we interdict to a inercliant the 
desin; for gain without HuppreHsin;,'on(! of the incitements to liis activity and work ? 
All that we can recoinniend to him is moderation, and not to sacrifice to this incite- 
ment sentiments of a liighcr order. 



DUTIES RELATING TO EXTERNAL GOODS. 249 

Let us first observe that prodigality, which is the opposite 
of avarice, is not always the opposite of cupidity. The need 
of spending engenders necessarily the need of obtaining and 
gaining as much money as possible ; and the prodigal, if he 
is not so in the beginning, very soon becomes covetous, 
through the exhaustion of his resources. " Most prodigals," 
says Aristotle, " become greedy and grasping, because they 
always wish to spend at their will. Their own resources being 
soon exhausted, they must needs procure others ; and as they 
scarcely take thought about dignity and honor, they appro- 
priate without scruple, and as they can." We should, there- 
fore, not view prodigality as a noble independence in respect 
to riches. It is so in the beginning, in fact, with young rich 
people ; but they soon Hnd out the limits of their great for- 
tunes, and then begins their slavery in respect to those very 
goods they made at first so light of. 

Prudence and our own interest teach us, of course, suffi- 
ciently that prodigality is a stupid vice, and that it is absurd to 
sacrifice the wants of to-morrow to the pleasures of to-day. 
Simple common-sense advises economy and saving. But for 
this very reason may we ask, with Kant : " whether they de- 
serve the name of virtues ; and whether prodigality even, in- 
asmuch as it tends to an unexpected indigence, should not be 
called an imprudence rather than a vice 1 " We shall say in 
reply that self-interest well understood becomes itself a duty 
when in opposition to passion. For instance, if, on the one 
side, passion lures me on to procure to myself a certain pleas- 
ure, and that, on the other, self-interest shows that this pleas- 
ure imperils my health, it is certain that duty in this circum- 
stance commands me to prefer my health to a momentary 
pleasure."^ Prudence, then, is but the exercise of a more gen- 

* Kant himself recognizes that self-interest may become a duty wlien combated 
by passion. "To secure one's own happiness," he says, "is at least an indirect 
duty ; for he who is dissatisfied with his coTidition may easily, in the midst of the 
cares and wants which besiege him, yield to the temptation of transgressing liis du- 
ties. . . Therefore, even though this tendency in man to seek his liappiness did not 
determine his will, even though health were not, for him at least, a thing to bo taken 



250 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

eral duty, which, if not the basis, is at least the condition of all 
the others : the duty of self-preservation. 

Economy and saving are not only a duty of self-preserva- 
tion, but also a duty of dignity: for experience teaches us 
that poverty and misery bring us into the dependency of 
others and that want leads to beggary. He who knows how 
to husband his means of existence, secures for himself in the 
future not only his livelihood, but also independence; in de- 
priving himself of fleeting and commonplace pleasures, he 
buys what is far better, namely, dignity. 

"Be economical," says Franklin, "and independence shall be thy 
shield and buckler, thy helmet and crown ; then shall thy soul walk 
upright, nor stoop to the silken wretch because he hath riches ; nor 
pocket an abuse because the hand which offers it wears a ring set with 
diamonds." 

It is from this point of view that the charming and witty, 
though sometimes vulgar, precepts of poor Richard may be re- 
garded as moral maxims, and should have access to all 
minds : 

*' If you would be wealthy, think of saving as well as of 
getting." 

"A fat kitchen makes a lean will." 

"What maintains one vice would bring up two children." 

"Many littles make a mickle." 

" Fools make feasts and wise men eat them. " 

" It is foolish to lay out money in a purchase of repent- 
ance." 

" Silks and satins, scarlet and velvets put out the kitchen 
lire." 

" When the well is dry, they know the worth of water." 

" Pride breakfasted with Plenty, dined with Poverty, and 
supped with Infamy."* 

account of in his calculations, there wouM still remain in this case, as in all others, 
a law, the one, namely, which commands him to work for his happiness, not from 
inclination, but from a sense of duty, and it is only by this that his conduct may 
have a real moral value. 
♦ Franklin. I'oor Richard' h Almanac. 



DUTIES RELATING TO EXTEEN'AL GOODS. 251 

What Franklin has depicted Avith greatest force and elo- 
quence, is the humiliation attached to debts, a sad consequence 
of the want of economy. There is a kind of pride which is 
not that of Rome and Sparta, nor of the courts and the great, 
but wliich has not the less its price. 

"He that goes a borrowing, goes a sorrowing. Alas! think well 
what you do when you run in debt ; you give to another power over 
your liberty. If you cannot pay at the time, you will be ashamed to 
see your creditor ; you will be in fear when you speak to him ; you will 
make poor, pitiful, sneaking excuses, and by degrees come to lose your 
veracity, and sink into base, downright lying. For lying rides uiwn 
Debt's back. A free-born man ought not to be afraid to see or speak to 
any man Uving. But poverty often deprives a man of all spirit and 
virtue. It is hard for an emj^ty bag to stand upright.'" 

We should then avoid so to subject ourselves to material 
things as not to dare make use of them, which is avarice ; or 
to spend them foolisldy and thus render ourselves dependent 
upon men, Avhich is prodigality. Economy lies between the 
two, and it is one of the virtues upon which Aristotle has 
most successfully established his theory of the golden mean. 
Kant, however, does not agree with him on this point. 
" For," says he, " if economy is a just medium between two 
extremes, then should we, in going from one vice to the op- 
posite vice, have to pass through virtue : the latter then 
would be nothing more than a lesser vice." According to 
Kant, it is not the measure but the principle which may serve 
to distinguish a vice from a virtue : the one is distinguished 
from the other not quantitatively, but specifically. The two 
vices, extremes themselves, prodigality and avarice, namely, 
are opposed to each other, not only in degree, but in kind. 
What is prodigality 1 " It is," says Kant, " to procure means 
of livelihood with a view to the enjoyment only." What is 
avarice ? "To acquire and preserve these means in view of 
possession only, interdicting one's self the enjoyment thereof." 
These two qualities, it is seen, do not only differ from each 
other in the more or the less, but in their very nature. There 
would remain next to ask, what is the quality of economy, 



252 ELEME:5fTS OF MOKALS. 

and that is just what Kant does not tell us. In default of it, 
it might be formulated thus : "to acquire and preserve the 
means of livelihood, not for the sake of possession or enjoy- 
ment, but for present or future need." Only there remains 
still the difficulty of distinguishing need from enjoyment. 
Where does legitimate need end ? Where does barren enjoy- 
ment begin ? It is here that Aristotle's formula asserts itself, 
and that we must finally come to recognize that the virtue of 
economy consists in a certain medium between prodigality and 
avarice. 

Yet whatever it be, we cannot better close this subject than 
by citing Aristotle's admirable description of the prodigal and 
the miser : La Bruyere shows no greater acuteness and force. 

"The prodigal is he who ruins himself on his own accord. The 
senseless squandering of his property is a sort of self-destruction, 
since one can only live on Avhat one has. Prodigality is the excess of 
giving, and the want of receiving ; but these two conditions cannot 
very long keep together ; for it is not easy to give to every one, when 
one receives from no one. This vice, however, should not appear as 
blameworthy as that of avarice. Age, distress even, may easily enough 
correct the prodigal and bring him back to a just medium. Thus is the 
nature of the prodigal on the whole not a bad one ; there is nothing 
vicious or low in this excessive tendency to give much and take nothing 
in return ; it is only folly. It is true that prodigals become greedy 
and grasping. This is also why their gifts are not truly liberal .... 
why they enrich some people who should bo left in poverty, and refuse 
doing anything for others far more deserving. They give with open 
hands to flatterers or people who procure them pleasures as unworthy 
as those of flattery. 

"Avarice is incurable, . . . Avarice is more natural to man than 
prodigality ; for most of us prefer keeping what we have than giving it 
away. ... It consists of two principal elements : defect of giving, 
excess of receiving. . . . Some show more excess of receiving, some 
more defect of giving. Thus do all those branded by the name 
shabby, stingy, mean, sin through a defect of giving ; yet do they 
not covet, nor would they take what belongs to others. . . . Other 
misers, on the contrary, may be known by their grasping propen- 
sities, taking all they can get : for example, all those who engage in 
ignoble speculations . . . usurers and all those Avho lend small sums 
at large interest. All these people take where they should not take, 



DUTIES RELATIN^G TO EXTERNAL GOODS. ?53 

and more than tliey ought to take. Lust for the most shameful lucre 
seems to be the common vice of all degraded hearts : there is no infamy 
they are not willing to endure, if they can make it a profit." * 

146. Duties relating to the acquisition of external things. 
— Work. — The necessity of procuring the things needful to 
life imposes on us a fundamental obligation, which continues 
even when the want is met : it is the obligation of ivork. 

Work springs from want ; this is its first origin ; but it 
survives want ; and its beauty and dignity consist in that, 
being at first born of a natural necessity, it becomes the honor 
of man and the salvation of society. 

In its most general sense, work means activity, and in that 
sense it may be said that everything works in nature ; every- 
thing is in motion ; everywhere we see elfort, energy, unfold- 
ing of forces. Take but the animals : the bird works to build 
its nest ; the spider to weave its web ; the bee to make her 
honey ; the beaver to construct its lodges ; the dog to catch 
the game ; the cat to catch mice. We find among animals 
workmen of all sorts : masons, architects, tailors, hunters, 
travelers ; even politicians and artists, as if they had been 
destined to set us examples in all kinds of work and activity. 

" In the morning," says Marcus Aurelius, " when thou hast trouble 
in getting up, say to thyself : I awake to do the work of a man : why, 
then, should I grieve for having to do things for which I am born, for 
which I was sent into the world ? Was I born to remain warmly in bed 
under my cover ? — But it is so pleasant. — Wert thou born for pleasure, 
then ? Was it not for action, for work ? Seest thou not the plants, 
the sparrows, the ants, the spiders, the bees, filling each their functions, 
and contributing according to their capacit}'" to the harmony of the 
world ? And shouldst thou refuse to attend thy functions as man ? 
Shouldst thou not follow the biddings of nature ? " t 

The ancients distinguished two kinds of work : noble and in- 
dependent work, namely, the arts, the sciences, war and 
politics ; and servile or mercenary work imposed by necessity. 
The latter they deemed below the dignity of man ; manual 

* Aristotle, Nichoraachean Ethics, iv., i. 

t Meditations of Marcus Aiirelius Antoninus, v., i. 



254 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

labor, properly so called, useful work, distinct from gymnastics 
and military exercises, they considered as belonging exclu- 
sively to slaves. It is to this Aristotle referred when he said : 

"There are men who have but just the necessary amount of reason to 
understand the reason of others : it is they whose only work is useful 
manual labor. It is obvious that such men cannot belong to them- 
selves ; they belong necessarily to others ; they are slaves by nature." 

Aristotle believed, moreover, that nature herself had made 
the distinction between the freeman and the slave : 

"Nature," he said, "made the bodies of the freemen different from 
those of the slaves ; she gave to the latter the necessary vigor for the 
heavy work of society, and made the former unable to bend their erect 
natures to such rude labors." * 

It is not necessary to have lived to this present time to 
find these errors refuted. Before Aristotle, Socrates had 
already understood the dignity of labor, even of the productive 
labor insuring a livelihood ; he had seen that work in itself 
was not servile, as the following charming account related by 
Xenophon, well proves : 

".Socrates, observing, on one occasion, Aristarchus looking 
gloomily, ' You seem,' said he, ' Aristarchus, to be taking 
something to heart ; but you ought to impart the cause of your 
uneasiness to your friends ; for, perhaps, we may by some 
means lighten it.' 

" ' I am indeed, Socrates,' replied Aristarchus, ' in great per- 
plexity ; for since the city has been disturbed, and many of 
our people have fled to the Piraeus, my surviving sisters and 
nieces and cousins have gathered about me in such numbers, 
that there are now in my house fourteen free-born persons. 
At the same time, we receive no profit from our lands, for the 
enemy are in possession of them ; nor any rent from our 
houses, for but few inhabitants are left in the city ; no one 
will buy our furniture, nor is it possible to borrow money 
from any quarter ; a person, indeed, as it seems to me, would 

♦ Aristotle, Politics, i., ii. 



DUTIES RELATING TO EXTERNAL GOODS. 255 

sooner find money by seeking it on the road, than get it by 
borrowing. It is a grievous thing to me, therefore, to leave 
my relations to perish ; and it is impossible for me to support 
such a number under such circumstances.' Socrates, on hearing 
this, replied : ' Are you not aware that Cyrebus, by making 
bread, maintains his whole household and lives luxuriously ; that 
Demea supports himself by making cloaks, Menon by making 
woolen cloaks, and that most of the Megarians live by mak- 
ing mantles?' 'Certainly they do,' said Aristarchus ; 'for 
they purchase barbarian slaves and keep them, in order to 
force them to do what they please ; but I have with me free- 
born persons and relatives.' 'Then,' added Socrates, 'be- 
cause they are free and related to you, do you think that they 
ought to do nothing else but eat and sleep ? Do you find that 
idleness and carelessness are serviceable to mankind, either for 
learning what it becomes them to know, or for remembering 
what they have learned, or for maintaining the health and 
strength of their bodies, and that industry and diligence are 
of no service at all 1 And as to the arts which you say they 
know, did they learn them as being useless to maintain life, 
and with the intention of never practicing any of them, or, 
on the contrary, with a view to occupy themselves about them, 
and to reap profit from them ? In which condition will men 
be more temperate, living in idleness or attending to useful 
employments 1 In which condition will they be more honest, 
if they work, or if they sit in idleness meditating how to pro- 
cure necessaries 1 ' ' By the gods,' exclaimed Aristarchus, 
' you seem to me to give such excellent advice, Socrates, that 
though hitherto I did not like to borrow money, knowing that, 
when I had spent what I got, I should have no means of 
repaying it, I now think that I can endure to do so, in order 
to gain the necessary means for commencing work.' 

" The necessary means were accordingly provided ; wool was 
bought ; and the women took their dinners as they continued 
at work, and supped when they had finished their tasks ; they 
became cheerful instead of gloomy in countenance, and, 



256 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

instead of regarding each other with dislike, met the looks of 
one another with pleasure ; they loved Aristarchus as their 
protector, and he loved them as being of use to him. At last 
he came to Socrates, and told him with delight of the state of 
things in the house ; adding that, ' the women complained of 
him as being the only person in the house that ate the bread 
of idleness.' ' And do you not tell them,' said Socrates, 
' the fable of the dog ? For they say that when beasts had 
the faculty of speech, the sheep said to her master : " You act 
strangely, in granting nothing to us who supply you Avith 
wool, and lambs, and cheese, except what we get from the 
ground ; while to the dog, who brings you no such profits, 
you give a share of the food which you take yourself." 

" The dog hearing these remarks, said, ' And not indeed 
without reason : for I am he that protects even yourselves, so 
that you are neither stolen by men, nor carried off by wolves; 
while, if I were not to guard you, you would be unable even 
to feed, for fear' lest you should be destroyed.' In conse- 
quence it is said that the sheep agreed that the dog should 
have superior honor. You, accordingly, tell your relations 
that you are, in the place of the dog, their guardian and pro- 
tector, and that, by your means, they work and live in security 
and pleasure, without suffering injury from any one.' " * 

If it is unjust to regard manual and productive work as 
servile, it is equally unjust to regard them as alone entitled to 
the name of work. 

"There are," says a Chinese sage, **two kinds of work : some peo- 
ple work with their minds ; some with their hands. Those who 
work with their minds govern men; those who work with their hands 
are governed by men. Those who are governed by men feed men ; those 
who govern men are fed by men. " t 

The same author shows further how divers functions are 
necessarily divided in society. 

• Xenophoii's Memorabilia of Socrates, Bohn's traiislation, by Rev. J. S. Watson, 
M.A., II., vii. 

t Confucius and Meiicius, Pauthier's translation, p. 303. 



DUTIES KELATING TO EXTEKNAL GOODS. 257 

" The holy man said to his brother : Go and comfort men; call them 
to thee; bring them back to virtue; correct them, help them; make 
them prosper. In thus busying themselves with the welfare of the 
people, could these holy men find leisure to engage in agriculture ? " 

We must, therefore, admit that all activity usefully em- 
ployed is work, and that all work, whether manual or intellec- 
tual, mercenary '^ or gratuitous, is nobl^ and legitimate. 

Work being taken in its most general sense, may be set 
down as being a pleasure, a necessity, a duty. 

Kant, who, as we have seen, refuses to admit in morals any 
other principle but that of duty, would probably disagree with 
us when we say that work is a pleasure and a necessity. But if 
it be true, why should we not say so ? Is it necessary, in or- 
der that the duty of work be truly accomplished, that it be 
both painful and useless? Wisdom nowise requires this. 
Providence having attached to work, whilst making it the 
necessary condition of our self- preservation, a certain pleas- 
ure, lightening thereby our efforts, morality nowise forbids us 
to enjoy this pleasure and accept this necessity. 

It will be easily granted that work is a necessity ; but it is 
more difficult to obtain from men the admission that it is a 
pleasure. Man, if he will not die of hunger, must work, 
unquestionably, they will say ; but that it is a pleasure is 
quite another thing. 

If the pleasure of work is put to question, no one at least 
will maintain that it is a pleasure not to work. For when does 
rest, leisure, recreation give us most pleasure ? Everybody 
knows, it is when we have worked. Recall to mind any un- 
usually heavy work, any hurried and necessary task, or even 
our daily or weekly duty scrupulously fulfilled : what joy is 
it not when the task is done to give ourselves a holiday ! 

Idleness brings with it satiety, weariness, disgust, disorder, 

* The word mercenary has always had an unfavorable meaning attached to it, a 
relic of ancient prejudice. In the proper sense, mercenary means remunerative, and 
should have no condemnatory signification. Yet already in antiquity the word mer- 
cenary had a higher sense than the word servile ; for Cicero, wishing to say that one 
should treat one's slaves well, said that they should be treated as mercenaries -that 
is to say, as men remunerated but free. 



258 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 

the ruin of the family, the destruction of health, and other 
evils still more baleful. Work, on the contrary, makes repose 
enjoyable. Without the fatigue of the day's work, no pleas- 
ure in sleep, and even no sleep at all. A manifest proof that 
Providence did not intend us for repose, but for action, for 

I effort, for struggle, for energetic and constant work. 

We should even go so far as to say that work is not only a 
stimulant, but that it is in itself a pleasure and a joy. 

There is, in the first place, the joy of self-love. We all ex- 
perience joy when we have accomplished something ; when we 
have succeeded in a difficult work, and the more difficult it 
was, the prouder we are of it. Besides, the exercise which 
accompanies activity is in itself a great good. The unfolding 
of strength, physical or moral, is the source of the truest pleas- 
ures. Activity is life itself : to live, is to act. Work, again, 
Ij gives us the pleasure which accompanies any kind of struggle : 

in working we struggle against the forces of nature, we subdue 
them, discipline them, we teach them to obey us. Unquestion- 
ably the first efforts are painful : but when once the first diffi- 
culties are overcome, work is so little a fatigue that it becomes 
a pleasant necessity. One is even obliged to make an effort 
to take rest. Yes, after having in childhood had trouble to 
get accustomed to work, what in the long run beconjes the 
most difficult, is not to work. One is alniost obliged to fight 
against himself, to force himself to recreation and rest. 
Leisure in its turn becomes a duty to which we almost submit 
against our will, and only because reason bids us to submit to 
it ; for we know that we must not abuse the strength Provi- 
dence has entrusted to us. 

It is not necessary to dwell long on this point to fix in our 
memory that work alone insures security and comfort. Cer- 
tainly it does not always secure them ; this is unfortunately 
too true ; ])ut if we are not quite sure that by working we 
can provide for wife and children, and secure a legitimate 
rest for our old age, we may, on the other hand, be quite sure 
that without work Ave shall bring upon ourselves and our 



DUTIES RELATING TO EXTERKAL GOODS. 259 

family certain misery. There have not yet been found any 
means whereby wealth may be struck out of the earth with- 
out work. This wealth which dazzles our eyes ; these palaces, 
carriages, splendid dresses, this furniture, luxury, all these 
riches and others more substantial : machinery, iron-works, 
land produce, all this is accumulated work. Between the 
condition of savages that wander about famished in the forests 
of America, and the condition of our civilized societies, there 
is no other difference but work. Suppose (a thing impos- 
sible) that in a society like this our own, all work should 
all at once be stopped : distress and hunger would be the 
immediate and inevitable consequence. Spain, on discovering 
the gold mines of America, thought herself enriched forever ; 
she ceased work ; it was her ruin ; for from being Europe's 
sovereign mistress, as she then was, she fell to the rank we see 
her occupy to-day. Laziness brings with it misery ; misery 
beggary, and beggary is not always satisfied with asking merely 
— it steals. 

Work is not only a pleasure or a necessity, it is also a duty ; 
though painful and joyless, work is, nevertheless, an obliga- 
tion for man ; it were still an obligation for him if he could 
live without it. Work does not only insure security : it se- 
cures dignity. Man was created to exeix;ise the faculties of 
his mind and body. He was created to act. I do not speak 
here of what he owes to others, but of what he owes to him- 
self. " The happy man," says Aristotle, " is not the man 
asleep, but the man awake," and to be awake is to work and 
act. 



CHAPTEE XIIT. 

DUTIES RELATIN^G TO THE INTELLECT. 



SUMMARY. 

Duties relative to the investigation of truth.— Of intellectual vir- 
tues : that there are such. 

Of the three forms of the intellect : speculative, critical, practical. 
Hence, three principal qualities : knowledge, judgment or good sense, 
prudence. 

Of knoivledge. — Refutation of the objections to knowledge : Nicole, 
Malebranche and Rousseau. 

General duty to cultivate one's intellect : the impossibility of de- 
termining the full range of this duty. 

Good sense or judgment. — Errors comuiitted in ordinary life : soph- 
isms of self-love, interest, and passion. — Other sophisms founded on 
false appearances. — Logical rules. 

Of prudence or practical wisdom. — Can it be called a virtue ? Par- 
ticular rules. 
Duties relative to telling the truth. — Lying. — Two kinds of lies : in- 
ward and outward lying. 

Inward lying. — Can one lie to himself? Examples. 

Of the lie properly so-called. — How and why it lowers the mind. 

Of silence. — To distinguish between dissimulation and discretion. 

Duty of silence : in what cases ? 

Of the oath and of perjury. — Perjury is a double lie, 

. The different duties of man toward himself, considered as a 
moral being, are naturally deduced from the divers faculties of 
which this moral being is composed. Plato is the iirst, to our 
knowledge, who has employed this mode of deduction. ■**" It 
is after having distinguished three parts or three faculties in 

♦ riato, Republic, i., ii. 



DUTIES ilELATIKG TO THE INTELLECT. 261 

the soul, that he attributes to each of them a virtue proper, 
" virtue being," he says, " the quality by means of which one 
does a thing well." It is thus that the virtue of wisdom cor- 
responds to the faculty of the understanding ; the virtue of 
courage to the irascible or courageous faculty, or to the heart ; 
temperance, to that of desire or appetite. To these three 
virtues, Plato adds another which is but the harmony, the 
accord, the equilibrium between these, namely, justice. 
Cicero afterwards took up this deduction from another stand- 
point."^ 

In applying this ancient method to the present divisions of 
psychology, we shall admit, with Plato and Cicero, an order of 
virtues relative to the mind, and which we will call ivisdom; and 
another class of virtues relating to the will, and which would 
correspond with courage or strength of mind {virtus, magnitudo 
animi). As to sensibility, if we take into consideration the 
appetites and physical desires, the virtue relating to them is 
temperance, of which we have already spoken. There remain 
the emotions, the affections of the heart which relate more 
particularly to the duties toward others. Yet they may, in a 
certain respect, be also considered as duties toward one's self, 
although language does not designate this kind of virtue by a 
particular name.f 

147. Dulles relative to the investigation of truth.— //^^e?- 

lectual virtues. — There are two classes of virtues which have 
been often distinguished : the strict duties and the broad 
duties : the strict duties to consist in not injuring one's facul- 
ties ; the broad, to develop and perfect them ; it is not easy 
to apply this distinction here ; and, concerning intelligence, to 
separate self-preservation from self-improvement. In such a 
case, not to gain is inevitably to lose ; he who does not culti- 
vate his intellect, impairs it by that very fact. 



* See his De Officiis, i., iv. 

t It might be called sensibility, i.i the sense this word had in the XVIII. century. 
It is not enough to be human toward others, one owes some feeling to one's self 
also. 



262 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

One could not then, without pedantic investigation and 
subtlety, try to distinguish here, in one and the same duty, 
two distinct duties : the one prohibitive, the other imperative. 
They are both bound up in the general duty to cultivate one's 
intellect. It is not so with the relations existing between 
one's own intellect and the intellect of others ; the expression 
of a thought gives rise to a strict duty : not to lie ; which is 
the immediate consequence of the duty of the intellect toward 
itself, and whicli consequently should, by -way of corollary, also 
belong to the present chapter. 

The first question which presents itself to us is to know 
whether we should admit, with Aristotle, hdelledual virtues, 
properly so called, distinct from ■ the moral virtues, the first 
having regard to the intellect, the second to the passions. It 
would seem that the various faculties pointed out by Aristotle 
under the name of intellectual virtues, are rather qualities of 
the mind than virtues : art, science, prudence, wisdom, intel- 
ligence* (not to mention the difficulty of determining the va- 
rious shades of meaning of tliese terms), are natural or ac- 
quired aptitudes, but which do not appear to have any moral 
merit : a scholar, an artist, a clever man, a man of good sense 
and good counsel are naturally distinguished from virtuous 
men. It would seem then that the intellectual virtues are 
opposed to the moral virtues, as the mind is to the heart : 
now, for every one, it is the heart rather than the mind that 
is the seat of virtue. 

These difficulties are only apparent, and Aristotle himself 
gives us the means of solving them : 

" In order to be truly virtuous," he says, " one should always act in 
a certain moral spirit : I mean that the choice of an action should be a 
free one, determined only by the nature of the acts one accomplishes. 
Now it is virtue that renders this choice laudable and good." t 

It is not the natural faculties of the mind then, no more 
than those of the heart and body, that deserve the name of 

* Nicomac.liean Ethics, VI., ii. t Ibid., VI., xii. 



DUTIES KELATING TO THE IXTELLECT. 263 

virtues. It is those same faculties, developed and cultivated 
by tlie will : on this condition alone do they deserve esteem 
and respect. The intellect is in itself of a higher order than 
the senses, the appetites, the passions : it is therefore incum- 
bent upon us to give it the largest share in our personal de- 
velopment, " It is to that we are allied," says Pascal, " not to 
space and time. Let our efforts then tend to think weU ; this 
is the principle of morality." The intellect presents two partic- 
ular forms : it is either contemplative or active, theoretical or 
practical. The virtue of the contemplative intellect is knowl- 
edge ; that of the practical intellect prudence. Finally a third 
virtue might be admitted : judgment or common sense^ which 
is a critical* not a practical faculty, and which partakes at the 
same time of both sides of the understanding. 

These subtle distinctions of Aristotle have not lost their 
correctness and application with time. One can, in fact, em- 
ploy his mind in three ways : either contemplate absolute 
truth by the means of science ; — or judge of events and men 
and foresee future thinc^s without contributins^ toward their oc- 
currence ; — or again deliberate as to what is to be done or not 
to be done to bring about actions usefid to one's self and to 
others. Hence three kinds of men : the wise, the intelligent, 
the prudent. 

Knowledge. — Taking up again, one after the other, these 
three qualities, we ought to ask ourselves whether knowledge 
is a duty for man ; if he is held to develop his mind in a theo- 
retical manner and without any practical end. But before 
we examine whether it is a duty, let us lirst find out whether 
it is lawful. 

The scientific and speculative culture of the mind on the 
part of man, has often been regarded as a proud or conceited 
refinement. 

This opinion was expressed by some writers of the seven- 
teenth century — for instance, by Nicole, in the preface to the 
Logiqiis de Port Royal : 

* Nicomachean Ethics, VI., ii. 



264 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

" These sciences," he says, "have not only back-corners and secret 
recesses of very little use, but they are all useless when viewed in them- 
selves and for themselves. Men were not born to spend their time 
measuring lines, examining the relations of angles, studying the divers 
movements of matter : their mind is too vast, their life too short, their 
time too precious, to occupy themselves with such small matters." 

Malebranche expresses liimself in about the same terms : 

"Men were not born to become astronomers or chemists, to spend 
their whole life hanging on a telescope or fastened to a furnace, for no 
better purpose than to draw afterwards from their laborious observations 
useless consequences. Granting some astronomer was the first in discov- 
ering lands, seas, and mountains in the moon ; that he was the first to 
perceive spots moving upon the sun, and that he has calculated their 
movements exactly. Granting some chemists to have finally discovered 
the secret of fixing mercury or to make that alkahest by means of 
which Van Helmont boasted he could dissolve all matter : were they 
the wiser and happier for it ? " 

In expressing themselves so disdainfully concerning the 
sciences, Nicole and Malebranche meant, in fact, only that one 
should not prefer speculative knowledge to the science of man 
or to the science of God ; and it is most true that if we view 
the sciences from a standpoint of dignity, we must admit that 
the moral sciences have greater excellence than the physical 
sciences. But that which is etpally true is, that we must not 
measure the merit of the sciences by their material or even 
moral or logical utility. Science is in itself, and without 
regard to any other end but itself, worthy to be loved and 
studied. Intelligence, in fact, was given to man that he 
might know the truth of things ; investigation is its natural 
food. Man, in raising himself to science, increases thereby 
the excellence of his nature ; he becomes a creature of a 
higher order ; for in the order of divine creatures, the most 
perfect are at the same time those who know the most, and 
the highest degree of happiness promised to religious faith, is 
to know truth face to face. It is therefore no frivolous amuse- 
ment to increase here below the sum of knowledge we are 
capable of, though this knowledge be only that of the things 



DUTIES EELATIKG TO THE INTELLECT. 265 

of this world, and not yet the higher and direct knowledge of 
God. 

Without admitting that science is of itself a legitimate 
object of research, it will be recognized that it is lawful to 
study it, either in our own interest or for the love of others, 
or for the love of God. But this is not enough : to see in 
science nothing but a means to be useful to ourselves (as, for 
example, to make a living),^ is a servile and mercenary view, 
which does not deserve to be discussed. To maintain that 
science should only be cultivated because of its utility to 
others, ^ the same as to say that man has no duties toward 
himself, and that he is not obliged, letting alone the interest 
of others, to respect or perfect his own self : a thing we have 
already refuted. Finally, to say that science should be cul- 
tivated as a gift from God, and for the love of God, may be 
true ; but this is not any more applicable to that occupation 
than to any other ; and the same may be said of any other 
kind of duty without exception. Certainly, science should 
not make one proud; but pride is only an adventitious 
and not a necessary consequence, which, in speaking of cul- 
tivating science, should not be confounded with the fact itself. 

Besides, when Malebranche says that the scientist is not 
any happier or wiser for his science, he is mistaken : for the 
greatest happiness is sometimes derived from science alone ; 
and as to the wisdom of it, a taste for elevated thouglit is 
already a guarantee against the allurements of the passions ; 
finally, whilst we cultivate science, we are safe from other less 
innocent inclinations. 

To the opinions of Xicole and Malebranche, let us oppose 
the testimony of two men who possessed in the highest degree 
the respect and love of science : 

" It is unworthy of man," says Aristotle, " not to possess himself of 
all the science he can. If the poets are right, when they say that the 
Divinity is capable of jealousy, this jealousy would especially manifest 

* We do not mean by this that science cannot be a means of livelihood : nothing 
more legitimate, on the contrary. We only mean that it is not that alone. 



266 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

itself in regard to philosophy, and then, all those who indulged in 
elevated thought would be unhappy. But it is not possible for the 
Divinity to be jealous, and the poets, as the proverb says, do not always 
tell the truth. 

Let us now hear Descartes : 

"Although in judging myself I j&nd that I am more disposed to 
incline toward the side of distrust than presumption, and that regarding 
with a philosopher's eye the diverse actions and enterprises of men, there 
be scarcely any that do not seem to me vain and useless, yet does the 
progress which I think I have already made in the search for truth 
give me extreme satisfaction, and inspire me with such hopes for the future 
that if, among the more material occupations of men, there ai^ any sub- 
stantially good and important, I dare believe that it is the one I have 
chosen." * 

If, from a standpoint of somewhat mystical piety, some 
minds of the seventeenth century regarded the sciences as 
useless, a paradoxical stoicism accused them in the eighteenth 
to be a cause of corruption and decay in society. Such is 
J. J. Eousseau's celebrated thesis in his first speech at the 
Academy of Dijon. 

This celebrated paradox, which has created so much ex- 
citement in the past century, and which is even an historical 
event (for it was the first attack against the society of the 
time), has since been so decried that it is useless to dwell on 
it. Let us make a brief resume of J. J. Rousseau's argu- 
ments : 

1. Progress in letters and sciences serves for nothing else 
but to conceal the vices and put hypocrisy in the place of an 
ill-bred rusticity. 

2. All great nations ceased to be invincible as soon as the 
sciences penetrated among them. Egypt, after the conquest 
of Cambyses ; Greece, after Pericles ; Rome, after Augustus. 
If, on the contrary, we look for examples of healthy, honest,, 
vigorous nations, we find them among the ancient Persians, 
Scythians, Spartans, the first Romans, the Swiss. 

* See also the admirable passage of Augustin Thierry in the preface to Dix arts 
d'etude. 



DUTIES RELATIXG TO THE INTELLECT. 267 

3. The sciences and arts are born of and nourish idleness. 
Their least mischief isuselessness."^ 

4. The letters and arts engender luxury, and luxury is 
one of the powerful instruments of corruption in morals : it 
destroys courage, lowers the character, and, by another con- 
sequence, depraves and corrupts tlie taste even. 

5. Another consequence : the culture of the mind en- 
genders sophisms, false systems, and dangerous doubts about 
religion and morality. 

These various arguments, taking them up one after the 
other, may be answered as follows : 

1. It is nowise proved that in the age of ignorance vices 
were less numerous and less deeply rooted than in the more 
enlightened age. Decency is a good in itself, and is not 
always hypocrisy. Delicacy of mind robs at least vice of its 
grossest features ; it diminishes and allays violence, which 
is a great source of crimes. 

2. It is not true that military virtues (which, besides, 
are not the only admirable virtues) are destroyed by the 
culture of the mind : modern examples prove this suffi- 
ciently. 

3. To say that the letters and sciences are born of and 
nourish idleness is an abuse of words. Wherein is the man 
who works mentally more idle than he Avho works with his 
hands 1 

4. The sciences and letters do not develop a taste for 
luxury : luxury would develop without them, and would be 
all the more frivolous and corrupting : they are concomitant, 
but not mutually related facts. Luxury, besides, is not abso- 

* " Answer me, ye illustrious philosophers, ye through whom we know what are 
the causes which attract bodies to a vacuum ; what are in the revolutions of the 
planets, the relations of the spaces they travel over at equal periods .... 
how man sees overj-thing in God ; how the soul and the body correspond to each 
other without inter-coinmunication, like two clocks .... Even though you 
had not taught us any of these things, should we be less numerous, less flourish- 
ing, more depraved ? " This passage recalls vividly that of Malebranche quoted 
above. Wliat, however, is most curious about it is that Rousseau in his criticism 
appropriates Malobranche's hypothesis. 



268 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

lutely bad in itself : the taste for elegance is a legitimate one. 
Is not nature herself adorned ? 

5. Science develops wrong opinions, false systems : so be 
it ; but it also corrects them, and we should look at both 
sides of a thing and see its good parts as well as its bad. 
Otherwise it would be easy to prove that everything is wrong. 

Rousseau's paradox, however, is not altogether false, and 
there are, unquestionably, many evils mixed up with the cul- 
ture of the mind, but these evils do not come from the mind's 
being cultivated, but from its being badly cultivated ; they do 
not come from people's seeking the true and the beautiful, 
but, on the contrary, from their not seeking them enough. 
The vanity derived from false science should not be im- 
puted to true science, but to ignorance. The moral enfeeble- 
ment, which is the result of an over-refined culture of the 
mind, comes from our not sufficiently cultivating the mind in 
every direction ; for example, from our neglecting the moral 
sciences for the industrial sciences, or the nobler arts for the 
voluptuous arts. The remedy for the evils pointed out by 
Rousseau is, therefore, not ignorance, but, on the contrary, a 
greater abundance of light, and higher lights. 

It is then for each of us a duty to instruct himself, but it 
is evident that this duty must be regarded as a broad duty — 
that is to say, that its application cannot be determined by 
precise formulas. No man is obliged by the moral law to be 
what is called a scholar ; no one is obliged to learn astronomy 
or transcendental mathematics, still less metaphysics. But it 
can be said that it is a duty for each of us : 1. To learn as well 
as possible the principles of the art he will have to cultivate : 
for instance, the magistrate the principles of jurisprudence ; 
the physician the principles of medicine ; the artisan the 
principles of mechanics. In this respect young students, we 
must confess, have far too easy a conscience. They do not 
realize the responsibility they incur by their negligence and 
laziness. 2. It is a duty for all men, according to the 
means they can dispose of, to instruct theniselves concerning 



DUTIES RELATING TO THE Il^TELLECT. 269 

their duties. 3. It is also a duty for each to go, as far as he 
can, beyond the strictly necessary in matters of education, 
and in proportion to the means he has at his disposal. It is 
then a duty to neglect no occasion of improving one's self. 

149. Good sense. — Between science and prudence, be- 
tween theoretical intelligence and practical intelligence, Aris- 
totle places the critical faculty — in other terms, judgment, 
good sense, discernment. This faculty is distinguished from 
science in that it is only applied to things where doubt and 
deliberation come in ; it treats then of the same objects as 
prudence ; but it is distinguished from the latter in that 
prudence is practical and prescribes what should be done or 
not be done ; good sense, on the contrary, is purely critical : 
it is limited to mere judging. It is, then, in some respects 
disinterested and does not induce to action ; it is the art of 
appreciating things, men, and events. Good judgment may 
be found among men lacking practical prudence : one sees 
often very well the fatdts of others without seeing one's own ; 
or, again, one may be aware of one's own faults and not be 
able to correct them. However, it is not to be denied that 
good sense or good judgment is a useful auxiliary to prudence ; 
it is already in itself an estimable quality, and is far from 
being as well distributed among men as Descartes claims."^ 
On the contrary, according to Nicole : 

" Common sense is not so common a quality as one thinks. . . . 
Nothing is more rare than this exactness of judgment. Everywhere we 
meet false minds who have scarcely any discernment of what is true ; 
who take everything the wrong way ; who accept the worst kind of 
reasonings, and wish to make others accept them also ; who allow them- 
selves to be carried away by the least appearances of things ; who are 
always excessive in their views and run into extremes ; minds who 
either have no grasp to hold on to the truths they have acquired, be- 
cause they have become attached to them through chance rather than 
solid knowledge ; or who, on the contrary, persist in their ideas with 
such stubbornness that they listen to nothing that could undeceive them; 
who judge boldly of things neither they nor any one else, perhaps, 

* "Good sense is the best distributed thing in the world," says Descartes at the 
beginning of his Discours de la Methodic. 



270 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 

ever understood ; who make no difference between talking to the purpose 
and talking nonsense, and are guided in their judgment by mere trifles. 
... So that there are no absurdities, however incredible, that do not 
find approving adherents. Whoever intends duping people is sure to 
find people glad to be duped, and the most ridiculous nonsense is sure 
to find minds suited for it. " 

Here, the rules of morality are confounded with those of 
logic. It is the latter that teaches us how to avoid error, if not 
in science (which is the object of speculative logic), at least in 
life. The development of these rules will be found in the 
Recherche de la verite of Malebranche. The Logiqiie de Port 
Royal will furnish us a resume of them which will suffice 
here : 

150. Illusions coming from ourselves.— 1. A first cause 
of illusion in the judgments we pass upon things, is to take 
our interest for a motive of belief : " I am of such or such a 
country, ergo^ I must believe that such or such a saint has 
preached the Gospel there ; I belong to such or such a class, 
ergo^ I believe that such or such a privilege is a just one." 

2. Our affections are another cause of illusion : "I love 
him, ergo^ he is the cleverest man in the world ; I hate him, 
ergo^ he is nobody." This is what may be called the sophistry 
of the heart. 

3. Illusions of self-love. There are some who decide about 
everything by the general and very convenient principle, that 
they must be in the right. They listen but little to the 
reasons of others ; they wish to carry everything before them 
by main authority, and treat all those who are not of their 
opinion as indifferent thinkers. Some even, without suspect- 
ing it, go so far as to say to themselves : "If it were so, I 
should not be the clever man I am : or, I am a clever man ; 
ergo^ it is not so." 

4. Reciprocal reproaches which people may make to each 
other with the same right : for example, you are a caviler, 
you are selfish, l)lin(l, dishonest, etc. Wlience this equitable 
and judicious rule of ISaint Augustine : " Let us avoid iu dis- 



DUTIES EELATIKG TO THE IKTELLECT. 271 

cussions mutual reproaching; reproaches which, though they 
may not be true at that moment, may justly be made by both 
parties." 

5. A spirit of contradiction and dispute, so admirably de- 
picted by Montaigne : 

" We only learn to dispute that we may contradict, and everyone 
contradicting and being contradicted, it falls out that the fruit of dispu- 
tation is to lose and nullify the truth. . . One flies to the east, the other 
to the west ; they lose the principal, and wander in the crowd of inci- 
dents ; after an hour of tempest, they know not what they seek ; one 
is low, the other high, and a third wide ; one catches at a word and a 
simile ; another is no longer sensible of what is said in oj)position to 
him, being entirely absorbed in his own notions, engaged in following 
his own course, and not thinking of answering you ; another, finding 
himself weak, fears all, refuses all, and, at the very beginning, confounds 
the subjects, or, in the very height of the dispute, stops short, and grows 
silent ; by a peevish ignorance affecting a proud contempt, or an un- 
seasonable modest desire to shun debate. . . ." 

6. The contrary defect, namely, a sycophantic amiability, 
which approves of everything and admires everything : ex- 
ample, the Pliilinte of Moliere. 

Besides these different illusions which are due to ourselves 
and our own weaknesses, there are others engendered from 
without, or at least from the divers aspects under which things 
present themselves to us : 

151. Illusions arising from objects. — 1. The mixture of 
the true and the false, of good and evil which we see in things, 
is cause that we often confound them. Thus do the fjood 
qualities of the persons we esteem cause us to approve their 
defects, and vice versa. Now, it is precisely in this judicious 
separation of good from evil that a correct mind shows itself. 

2. Illusions arising from eloquence and flowery rhetoric. 

3. Ill-natured interpretations of people's peculiar views 
founded on mere appearances or hearsay ; as, for example : 
such a one goes with doubtful characters, ergo, he is a bad 
character himself ; such another associates Avith free-thinkers, 
ergo, he is a free-tliinker likewise ; a third criticises the gov- 



ST'S ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

ernment, ergo, he is a rebel ; he approves its acts, ergo, he is a 
courtier, etc., etc. 

4. False deductions drawn from a few accidental occurrences ; 
as for instance : medicine does not cure all diseases, hence it 
cures none ; there are frivolous women, hence all w^omen are 
frivolous ; there are hypocrites, hence piety is nothing but hy- 
pocrisy. 

5. Error of judging of bad or good advice from subsequent 
events. As for example : Such or such an event followed 
upon such and such advice, hence it waS good — it was bad. 

6. Sophistry of authority. It consists in accepting men's 
opinions on the strength of certain qualities they may possess, 
although these qualities may have nothing to do with the 
matter in hand. For instance, by reason of their age, or piety, 
or, what is worse, of wealth and influence. Certainly we do 
not exactly say in so many words : such a one has a hundred 
pounds income, and must therefore be right ; but there is 
nevertheless something similar going on in our minds, which 
runs away with our judgment without our being conscious 
of it. 

In pointing out these various dangers upon which good 
judgment and upright reasoning are often wrecked, we indi- 
cate sufficiently the rules which ought to serve in the educa- 
tion of the mind : for it is enough to be warned against such 
errors, and be endowed with a certain amount of correct judg- 
ment, to recognize and avoid them. 

152. Prudence. — From the faculty of judging and having 
an opinion about things, let us pass on to the third quahty of the 
mind, namely : prudence, which consists, as Aristotle informs 
us, in deliberating well before doing anything, and which is 
the art of well discerning our interest in the things concern- 
ing us, and the interest of others in the things concerning 
them. 

There arc then two sorts of prudence : personal prudence, 
wliich is nothing more than self-interest well understood, and 
civil or disinterested prudence, wliich applies to the interests 



DUTIES RELATING TO THE INTELLECT. 273 

of others ; thus, a prudent general, a prudent notary, a pru- 
dent minister, are not only prudent in their own interests, but 
for that of others. Prudence from this point of view is then 
but a duty toward others. As to personal prudence, it may 
be asked how far it is a question of morals, and whether it is 
not excluded from them by the very principle of morals, 
which is duty. But we have already solved that difficulty. 
Because prudence is not all virtue, it does not foUoAV that it is 
not a virtue. Certainly, we are too naturally inclined to seek 
our own interest, to make it necessary to set it down as 
a duty. But in case of struggle between self-iilterest and 
passion,* self-interest takes sometimes the character of duty. 
This is clear enough. Interest, if properly understood, repre- 
sents general interest ; and passion, private interest. To yield 
to passion, is to satisfy at a given moment, and for a very 
short time, one of our desires only. Prudence, on the con- 
trary, pleads the cause of the general interest of the entire 
man, and for all liis life. Man may be represented (as Plato 
has represented liim) figuratively as a city, a republic, a world; 
it has been said that he is a microcosm (little world). This 
little world represents in miniature the harmony of the great 
world. The individual to whom the government of this little 
world is intrusted, and who stands in regard to himself as 
Providence stands in regard to the universe, should not favor 
a part of it at the expense of the rest. Prudence is then the 
virtue by means of which man governs the affairs of the little 
State of which he is the king. Prudence, moreover, is noth- 
ing more than foresight — that is to say, the faculty of foresee- 
ing what is coming, of drawing from the past, consequences 
for the future, and acting conformably to the lessons of expe- 
rience. Now, it is especially by tliis that man is distin- 
guished from the animal : it is by this that he is capable of 
progress. He owes it then to himself to act according to the 
principles of reason, and not according to brute instincts. 

* Unless, of course, passion itself implies a duty superior to self-interest : which 
is not the case here. 



274 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. 

Another difficulty of greater import, is that prudence does 
not represent a special virtue, but is nothing more than a 
common name given to several particular virtues. Thus, pru- 
dence being defined " the discernment between the useful and 
the hurtful," it may be said that discernment, in point of sen- 
sual pleasures, will be called moderation or temperance ; in 
point of riches, economy ; that true courage holding the mean 
between temerity and cowardice, is necessarily accompanied 
by prudence ; we have seen that science itself must learn how 
to keep within bounds, and this also -is a sort of prudence. 
We shall find therefore that prudence has not, like other vir- 
tues, a property of its o.wn. It is in reality nothing more than 
a mode common to all personal virtues, each presenting two 
standpoints to be considered from: 1, from the standpoint of 
personal dignity, which is the highest principle ; 2, from the 
standpoint of a proper self-interest, which, subordinate to the 
first, is a secondary and relative standpoint. 

However, applied in individual cases, we will give here a 
few of the rules concerning prudence in general : 

1. It is not enough to attend to what good or evil the pres- 
ent moment may present ; we should also examine what the 
natural consequences of this good or evil will be, so that, com- 
paring the present with the future and balancing the one with 
the other, we may see the result beforehand. 

2. It is unreasonable to seek a good which will inevitably 
be followed by a greater evil. 

3. Nothing is more reasonable than to suffer an evil 
which is certain to be followed by a greater good. 

4. One should prefer a greater good to a lesser, and con- 
versely so in the case of evils. 

5. It is not necessary to be fully certain in regard to 
great goods or evils, and proba])ility is sufficient to induce a 
reasonable person to deprive liimself of some lesser gootls, or 
to sirffer some sliglit evils, in view of acquiring much greater 
goods, or avoiding worse evils.* 

♦ See Burlamaqui, Droit naturel, part I., c;h. vi. 



n 



DUTIES RELATING TO THE INTELLECT. 275 

154. Duties relative to telling the truth.— Veracity 
and falsehood. — It is in the nature of man to express his 
thoughts by signs of various kinds, and oftenest by words. 
What is the law- which is to regulate the relations between 
words and thoughts ? Are we to regard words as arbitrary 
means serving indifferently to express any kind of thought, 
or as having no other end than to express our own particular 
thought, the same, namely, which comes to us at the moment 
of speaking ? Common sense solves this question by esteem- 
ing in the highest degree those who use speech only to ex- 
press their thought, and despising those who use it to deceive. 
This sort of virtue is called veracity, and its opposite is false- 
hood. 

Falsehood is generally regarded among men as only a viola- 
tion of the duty toward others. It is not from this stand- 
point we are going to consider it here. Unquestionably, one 
should injure no one in any way, no more by a falsehood 
than otherwise. But for a falsehood to be harmless, does it 
follow that it is not bad ? The scholastics distinguished two 
kinds of falsehoods : the malicious falsehood, with intent to 
deceive, and the verbal falsehood, which consists in mere 
words, and does not spring from any wish to do harm (as, for 
example, the falsehood of the physician who deceives his 
patient). But such distinctions should not be admitted. 
Falsehood need not be malicious to be bad : it is bad of itself, 
whatever be its consequences. There remains then to know 
what is to be done in cases of conflict between our duties, 
and if moral law does not in certain cases relent *? Even 
though it did, it would not suffice to authorize the distinction 
between tAvo kinds of falsehoods. "What precisely constitutes 
a falsehood is to be verbal — that is to say, to employ speech to 
express the contrary of truth. Whether malice enters into it 
or not, this is an accident which has nothing to do with the 
essence of falsehood ; it may aggravate or attenuate it, cer- 
tainly, but it does not constitute it. 

To well understand the moral evil which resides in false- 



276 I:leMekts of mOraIS. 

hood one must take it at its source — that is to say, distin- 
guisli with Kant between inner and outward falsehood : the 
first whereby one lies to himself, namely, in lacking in sin- 
cerity in regard to himself ; the second whereby one lies to 
others. 

The human mind is naturally constituted for knowing the 
truth : truth is its object and its end. A mind that has not 
truth for its object is no mind. Whosoever uses his mind to 
satisfy his inclinations undoubtedly debases his mind, but he 
does not pervert it ; but he who uses his mind to make him- 
self or others believe the contrary to the truth, perverts and 
ruins his mind. He then perverts and destroys one of the 
most excellent gifts of his nature, and fails thereby in one of 
the strictest and most clearly defined duties. 

It may be asked whether it is possible for man to really lie 
to himself, and if it is not rather a contradiction in terms. 
One can, in fact, understand how a man may be mistaken, 
but then he does not know that he is mistaken ; it is an error, 
but no lie ; if, on the contrary, he knows that he is mistaken, 
then for that very reason is he no longer mistaken ; so that it 
would seem that there can be no lying to one's self. • 

And yet popular psychology, the subtlest of all, because it is 
formed in the presence of real facts, and under the true teach- 
ings of experience (whilst scientific psychology is always more 
or less artificial), this natural psychology, which sums up the 
experience of the whole of humanity, has always affirmed that 
man could voluntarily deceive himself, consequently lie to 
himself. The most ordinary case of inward falsehood is 
when man employs sophisms — that is to say, seeks reasons 
wherewith to smother the cry of his conscience ; or when he 
tries to persuade himself that he has no other motive in view 
than moral good, whilst, in fact, he only acts from fear of 
punishment, or from any other interested motive. 

" To take, througli love of self, an intention for a fact, because it has 
for its ol)ject a i^ood end in itself, is again," says Kant, "a defect of 
anotlier kind. It is a weakness similar to that of the lover who, desirous 



n 



t>UTIES RELATING TO THE IKTELLECT. 2?*^ 

to see nothing but good qualities in the woman he loves,* shuts his 
eyes to the most obvious defects. " 

The inward lie is then an unpardonable weakness, if not a 
real baseness, and we must conclude from this that it is the 
same with the outward lie — the lie, namely, which expresses 
itself in words. 

Here it may be objected that speecli is not an integrant 
part of the mind, that it is only an accident, that whatever 
use w^e may make of speech we do not destroy thereby the 
principle of intelligence, for I may use my mind to discover 
and possess myself of truth, even though I should not make 
known the same to others, or make them believe otherwise 
than I think. From this standpoint falsehood would still 
remain a sin as a violation of the duty toward others, though 
not as a shortcoming in regard to one's self. 

But this would be a very false analysis of the psychological 
fact called communication of thought. Speech is never 
wholly independent of thought. The very fact that I speak, 
implies that I think my speecli : there is an inner affirmation 
required. I cannot make sophisms to deceive men without 
having first inwardly combined these sophisms through the 
faculty of thinking which is in me. I think then of one 
thing and another at the same time ; I think at the same time 
of both the true and the false, and I am conscious of this con- 
tradiction. I employ then knowingly my mind in destroying 
itself, and I fall, consequently, into the vice pointed out above. 

Kant gives another deduction than ours to prove that false- 
hood is a violation of duty toward one's self. But his deduc- 
tion is, perhaps, not sufficiently severe : 

** A man who does not himself believe what he tells another, is of less 
worth than is a simple thing ; for one may put the usefulness of a 
simple thing to some account, whilst the liar is not so much a real man 
as a deceiving appearance of a man. . . . Once the major principle of 
veracity shaken, dissimulation soon runs into all our relations with 
others." 

* See the celebrated lines in the Misanthrope, act ii., sc. v. 



a5'J'8 elements of morals. 

This deduction is very ingenious ; but it lacks strictness, 
inasmuch as it is based on the use a man may be made of, 
which principle is contrary to the general principle of Kant's 
morals, and also because it rests on the standpoint of social 
interest, which lies outside the point in question. 

155. Discretion. — It is evident that the duty not to lie, 
does not carry with it, as its consequence, the duty of telling 
all. Silence must not be confounded with dissimulation, and 
no one is obliged to tell all he has in his mind ; far from it ; 
Ave are here before another duty toward ourselves, which 
stands in some respect in opposition to the preceding one, 
namely, discretion. The babbler who speaks at all times and 
under all circumstances, and he who tells what he should not, 
must not be confounded with the loyal and sincere man, who 
only tells what he thinks, but does not necessarily tell all he 
thinks. 

Silence is obviously a strict duty toward others, when the 
matter in question has been confided to us under the seal of 
secrecy. But it may also be said that it is a duty toward our- 
selves, and for the following reasons : 

1. To use one's mind, as does the babbler, in giving utter- 
ance to barren and frivolous thoughts, is degrading : not all 
that accidentally crosses one's mind is worthy of being ex- 
pressed ; and it is simply heedlessness to fix one's mind on 
fleeting things, and give them a certain fixity and value 
through words ; 2, there are, on the other hand, other thoughts, 
too precious, too personal, too elevated, to be indiscreetly ex- 
posed to the curiosity of fools or indifferent persons. Thus 
will it be heroic, unquestionably, to confess one's faith before 
the executioner, if there is need ; but it is not necessary to 
proclaim it all round when there is no occasion for it : I be- 
lieve such and such a thing ; I belong to such or such a 
church ; I liold such and such a doctrine ; I belong to such or 
sucli a party, unless, of course, there is an interest in spread- 
ing one's belief ; and even tlien it will be necessary to choose 
tlie riglit place and the right moment. As to using discretion 



DUTIES EELATIXG TO THE i:srTELLECT. 279 

in regard to our sentiments, our moral qualities, or our defects, 
it is in one instance a duty of modesty and in another one of 
personal dignity. 

156. Perjury. — If falsehood is in general an abasement of 
human dignity, it is a still greater abasement when it is of the 
kind called ■i)eTiiiry, and a transgression which might be de- 
fined as a double falsehood. 

Perjury is of two sorts : it either means swearing falsely or 
violating a former oath. In order to understand the meaning 
of perjury, one must know what constitutes an oath. 

The oath is an affirmation where God is taken as a witness 
of the truth one is supposed to utter. The oath consists, 
then, in some respect, in invoking God in our favor, in mak- 
ing him speak in our name. We, so to say, attest that God 
himself, who reads the heart, would, if he were called in 
testimony, speak as we speak ourselves. The oath indicates 
that one accepts in advance the chastisements God does not 
fail to inflict upon those who invoke his name in vain. 

It will be seen by this how perjury, namely, false SAvearing, 
may be called a double lie. For perjury is a lie, first in 
affirming a thing that is false, and second, in affirming that 
God would bear testimony if he were present. Let us 
add that there is here a sort of sacrilege Avhich consists 
in our making God, in some respects, the accomplice of our 
he. 

It is true that men, in taking an oath, forget often its sacred 
and religious character, and, consequently, there is not always a 
sacrilegious intention in their false swearing. But it may 
stiU be said that perjury is a double lie ; for in every oath 
taken, even though stripped of all religious character, there is 
always a double attestation : first we affirm a thing, and next 
we affirm that our affirmation is true. It is thus that in that 
form of speech long since worn out, which is called icovd of 
honor, we give our word and engage our honor to attest that 
such or such affirmation is true. To break this word is, then, 
to lie twice, for it is affirming a false affirmation. It is for 



280 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

\this reason that falsehood, which is always culpable, must, in 
this case, be regarded as particularly dishonorable. 

As to perjury, considered as a violation of a former oath, it 
belongs to the class of promise or word-breaking, which is 
especially contrary to the duty toward others. Yet, even in 
this kind of falsehood, there is also a violation of personal 
duty ; for he who breaks a promise (with or without oath) 
would seem to indicate by it that he did not intend keeping 
his promise, which is destructive to the very idea of a promise; 
it is then, once more, using speech, not as a necessary symbol 
of thought, but simply as a means of obtaining what we want, 
reserving to ourselves the liberty to change our minds when 
the moment comes for fulfilling our promise. This is abasing 
our intelligence, and making it serve as a means to satisfy our 
wants, whilst it belongs to an order far superior to these very 
wants. 



CHAPTEE XIY. 

DUTIES RELATIYE TO THE WILL. 



SUMMARY. 

Duties relative to the will. — Strength of soul. — All duty in general 
is relative to the will : for there is not any which does not require 
the control of the will over the inclinations. 

Virtue, especially when considered from the latter standpoint, — the 
control of the will over the inclinations, — is strength of soul, or 
cou7uge. 

Of courage and its different forms : military courage ; civic courage ; 
patience, moderation in prosperity ; equanimity, etc. 

Of anger and its different kinds. — Generous anger. 

Dxxty oi personal dignity. — Respect for ones self True 'pride and 
false pride. — Of o^just esteem of one's self. — Oi modesty. 
Duties relative to sentiment. — Have we any duties in regard to our 
sensibilities? — Kant's objection : no one can love at will. Reply. — 
To distinguish sensibility from sentimentality. 

157. Duties relative to the will.— Strength of soul. — One 

may justly ask whether there are any duties relating particu- 
larly to the will : for it would seem that all duties are gener- 
ally duties of the will. There is no one that does not require 
the control of the will over the inclinations ; and if we say 
that it is a duty to cultivate and exercise this control, is it not 
as if we said that it is a duty to learn to do our duty ? But 
why could we not also suppose a third duty, commanding us 
to observe the former, and so ad infinihim ? 

We may then say that the duty to exercise one's will and 
triumph over the passions, is nothing more than duty per 
se, the duty par excellence, of which all the other duties 



282 ELEMElil'TS OF MOEALS. 

are but parts. This virtue, by which the soul commands 
its passions and does not allow itself to be subjugated by 
any of them, may be called courage or strength . of soul. 
Courage thus understood is not only a virtue ; it is vir- 
tue itself.* In fact, what is temperance, if it is not a cer- 
tain kind of courage before the pleasures of the senses ? what 
economy, if not courage before the temptations of fortune ? 
what veracity, if not the courage to tell the truth under all 
circumstances ? what justice and benevolence, if not the cour- 
age to sacrifice self-interest to the interest of others ? We 
have already (page 87) made a similar observation in regard 
to prudence and wisdom, namely, that virtue in general is 
both wisdom and courage : for it presupposes at the same time 
strength and light. As strength, it is courage, energy, great- 
ness of soul ; as light, it is prudence and wisdom. All special 
virtues would, then, strictly speaking, be only factors, or 
component parts, of those two. 

158. Courage. — Yet if courage, in its most general sense, 
is virtue itself, usage has given it a special meaning which 
defines it in a more particular manner, and makes of it a cer- 
tain distinct virtue, on the same conditions as all the others. 
As of all the assaults which besiege us in life, death appears 
to be the most terrible and generally the most dreaded, it is 
not to be wondered then that this kind of energy which con- 
sists in braving death and, consequently, all that may lead to 
it, namely, peril, has been designated by a particular name. 
Courage, therefore, is the sort of virtue which braves peril and 
even death. Then, by extension, the same word was applied 
to every manifestation of strength of soul before misfortune, 
misery, grief. A man can be brave in poverty, in slavery, 
under humiliation even — that is, a humiliation wliich is due to 
outward circumstances, and which he has not deserved. 

This courageous virtue seems to have been the particular 
feature of the ancients, and by dint of its excellence, still re- 
tains its hold on us, dazzling our imagination, as a privileged 

* Virtus in Latin has botli meanings. 



DUTIES RELATIVE TO THE WILL. 283 

prestige. Yet is it only an illusion, and modern times are as 
rich in heroes as were ancient times : only we pay less atten- 
tion to it perhaps ; but, whether it be real superiority in this 
kind of virtue, or literary reminiscences and habits of educa- 
tion, nothing will ever erase that lively picture of ancient 
heroism so celebrated under the name of Plutarch's heroes, 
and which has always captivated all great imaginations. 
Stoicism, that original philosophy of the Greek and Roman 
world, is above all the philosophy of courage. Its character 
proper is the strength to resist one's self, to hold pain, death, 
all the accidents of humanity, in contempt. Its model is Her- 
cules, the god of strength ; all the great men of antiquity, 
whether consciously or not, were stoics : such were especially 
the ancient Roman citizens ; they were austere, inexorable ; 
slaves to duty and discipline, faithful to their oath, to their 
country ; — Brutus, Regulus, Scsevola, Decius, and thousands 
more like them. Wlien stoicism came in contact with the 
last great Romans, it found material all ready for its doc- 
trines ; it then became the philosophy of the last republicans, 
the last heroes of a world which was fast disappearing. 

The courage which most impresses men is military courage. 

"The most honorable deaths occur in war,*' says Aristotle, *' for in 
war the danger is the greatest and most honorable. The public honors 
that are awarded in states and by monarchs attest this. 

" Properly, then, he who in the case of an honorable death, and under 
circumstances close at hand which cause death, is fearless, may be called 
courageous ; and the dangers of war are, more than any others, of 
this description. " * 

In looking at it from this somewhat exclusive standpoint, 
Aristotle refuses to call courageous those who brave sickness 
and poverty ; " for it is possible," he says, " for cowards, in 
the perils of war, to bear with much firmness the losses of 
fortune ;" nor does he allow to be called courageous " him who 
firmly meets the strokes of the whip he is threatened with." 

This is but a question of name and degree. Wherever 

* Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics. Translated by R. W, Browne, III., vi. 



284 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

there are any evils to brave, the firmness which meets and 
bears these evils can be called courage ; on the other hand, 
the sense of the word can, if preferred, be restricted to mili- 
tary perils ; but what Aristotle has most justly defined, and of 
which he makes a very subtle analysis, is the difference be- 
tween apparent and true courage. Thus the courage of con- 
straint and necessity — as, for instance, that of soldiers who 
would be mercilessly killed, if they retreated before the en- 
emy — is not true courage, for one cannot be brave through 
fear. Nor should anger be confounded with courage : this 
were but the courage of wild beasts obeying a blind impulse 
under the sting of pain. At that rate, the donkeys even, 
when hungry, would be brave. That which determines true 
courage is the sentiment of honor, not passion. We should 
neither call brave him who is so only because he feels himself 
the strongest, like the drunkard full of confidence in the be- 
ginning, but who runs away when he does not succeed. For 
this reason is there truer courage in preserving one's intrepidity 
and calm in sudden dangers, than in dangers long anticipated."^ 
Finally, ignorance cannot be called courage either : to brave a 
danger one is ignorant of, is only to be apparently brave. 

Aristotle finds also in courage an excellent opportunity to 
apply his celebrated theory of the golden mean. Courage is 
for him a medium between temerity and cowardice. But it 
is not the too much or too little in danger which determines 
what we ought to call courage. There are cases where one 
may be obliged to brave the greatest possible danger without 
being for that rash ; other cases where, on the contrary, one 
has the right to avoid the least possible peril without being for 
that a coward. The true principle is that one should brave 
necessary jierils, be they ever so great ; and likewise avoid 
useless perils, be they ever so slight. Yet, the question of de- 
gree should not be wholly overlooked. There are some 

* This idea of Aristotle may be questioned ; for, in a sudden peril, one may be 
sustained by a natural impulse, and the feeling of self-defense, whilst anticipated 
peril allows all the impressions of fear to grow : it requires, therefore, a greater 
effoi-t to overcome them. 



DUTIES EELATITE TO THE WILL. 285 

perils ^liich, ■v^'ithout being necessary, it is useful to brave 
(were it but to train one's self for greater ones). Such are, 
for example, tlie dangers connected with bodily exercises. 
Peril and utility must, of course, be compared with each otlier; 
for example, he who from considerations of utility would wish 
to avoid all kinds of perils, wall be wanting in courage ; and 
he who, on the contrary, would lightly brave an extreme peril, 
will naturally deserve to be called rash. Thus must we first 
consider the nature of the peril, and, secondly, the degTee. 

159. Civic courage. — Although military courage is the 
most brilliant and popidar form of courage, it may be asked 
whether there is not a higher and nobler form still, namely, 
civic courage. 

Cicero, who, to say the truth, was not sufficiently disinter- 
ested in the matter, persists in showing that civic virtues are 
equal to military virtues, and demand an equal amount of 
courage and energy.* A firm and high-souled man, he says, 
has no trouble in difficult circumstances, to preserve his pres- 
ence of mind and the free use of his reason, to provide in ad- 
vance against events, and to be always ready for action when 
necessary. 

This is a sort of courage more difficult perhaps than the 
one required in a hand-to-hand struggle with the enemy. 
Civic hfe, besides, has itself trials Avhich often imperil one's 
existence. 

Antiquity has left us innumerable and admirable exam- 
ples of civic courage against t}Tanny. Helvidius Priscus was 
thought to look with disapproval upon Vespasian's administra- 
tion. The latter sent liim word to keep away from the Sen- 
ate : " It is in thy power," replied Helvidius, " to forbid my 
belonging to the Senate, but as long as I belong to it, I shall 
attend it." — " Go, then," said the emperor, " but hold thy 
tongue." — " If thou ask me no questions I wiU make thee no 
answers." — " But I must ask thee questions." — "And I must 
answer thee what I think just." — " If thou dost, I shall have 

* Dc Officiis, I., xxiii. 



286 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

thee put to death." — " When have I said to thee that I was 
immortal?" But nothing ever surpassed the intrepidity of 
Socrates, either before the Thirty Tyrants who wished to inter- 
dict him free speech,* or before the people's tribunals which 
condemned him to death : 

Plato in his Apology makes him say : "If you were to tell me now, 
* Socrates, we will not listen to Anytus : Ave send thee back absolved on 
condition that thou ceasest philosophizing and givest up thy accus- 
tomed researches,' I should answer you without hesitation, *0 Atheni- 
ans, I honor and love you, but I shall obey God befoi-e I obey you. ' " 

Then, after having been condemned to death, he closes with 
these admirable words : 

" I bear ray accusers, and those who have condemned me, no resent- 
ment, although they did not seek my good, but rather to injure me. 
But I shall ask of them one favor : I beg you, when my children shall be 
grown up, to persecute them as I have myself persecuted you, if you see 
that they prefer riches to virtue. . . If you grant us this favor, I and 
my children shall have but to praise your justice. But it is time we go 
each our way : I to die, you to live. Which of us has the better part, 
you or I ? This is known to none but God." 

160. Patience. — One of the most difficult forms of courage 
is that which consists not only in l^raving or repelling 
a threatening danger (which presupposes some effort and 
activity), but in bearing without anger, without any sign 
of vain revolt, the ills and pains of life : tliis is patience. 
There is a kind of patience which is but a part of our duty 
in regard to others : one must learn to bear a great deal 
from others, they having often a great deal to bear from us. 
But we speak here of that inner patience which is our strength 
in grief ; the patience of the invalid in his daily sufferings ; 
that of the poor man in his poverty ; the patience, in short, 
which all must exercise amidst the innumerable and inevitable 
accidents of life. It is, above all, that sort of virtue which 
the Stoics meant when they said with Epictetus : " You 
sliould not wish things to happen as you want them ; but you 

See Xenophon's Memorabilia of Socrates, I., i. 



t 



DUTIES RELATIVE TO THE WILL. 287 

should wish them as they do happen." A maxim which 
Descartes translated substantially, saying : " My maxim is 
rather to try to overcome myself than fortune, and rather to 
change my own wishes than to change the order of the world." 
Which he explained by saying : 

" If we regard the goods which lie outside of us as unattainable as 
those we are deprived of from our birth, we shall no more grieve at not 
possessing them, than we should in not possessing the empires of China 
or Mexico ; and, making, as it is said, a virtue of necessity, we shall 
not any more desire to be healthy when ill, or to be free when in prison, 
than we desire now to have bodies of as incorruptible a stuff as diamonds, 
or to have wings to fly with like birds." * 

It is this kind of courage which at every moment of life 
is most in requisition, and which is the rarest ; for there will 
be found plenty of men capable of braving death when the 
occasion presents itself ; but to bear with resignation the in- 
evitable and constantly renewed ills of human life, is a virtue 
all the more rare as one is scarcely ever ashamed of its op- 
posite vice. One would blush to fear peril, one does not 
blush for rebelling against destiny ; one is willing to die if 
necessary, but not to be thwarted. Yet will it be admitted 
that to succumb under the weight of destiny, is a kind of 
cowardice. It is for this reason that it would be justly said 
that suicide is also a cowardly act ; for whilst it is true that it 
demands a certain physical courage, it is also true that the 
moral courage which bears the ills of life is of a still higher 
order. 

"You take a journey to Olympia," says Epictetus, "to behold the 
work of Phidias, and each of you thinks it a misfortune to die without 
a knowledge of such things ; and will you have no inclination to see 
and understand those works, for which there is no need to take a 
journey ; but which are ready and at hand, even to those who bestow 
no pains ! "Will you never perceive what you are, or for what you were 
born, or for what purpose you are admitted to behold this spectacle ? 
But there are in life some things unpleasant and difficult. And are 
there none at Olympia ? Are you not heated ? Are you not crowded ? 

* Discours de la Mcthodc, part III. 



288 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

Are you not without good conveniences for bathing ? Are you not wet 
through, when it happens to rain ? Do you not have uproar and noise, 
and other disagreeable circumstances ? But, I suppose, by comparing 
all these with the merit of the spectacle, you support and endure them. 
Well, and have you not received faculties by which you may support 
every event ? Have you not received greatness of soul ? Have you not 
received a manly spirit ? Have you not received patience ? What 
signifies to me anything that happens, while my soul is above it ? 
What shall disconcert or trouble or appear grievous to me ? Shall I not 
use my powers to that purpose for which I received them ; but lament 
and groan at every casualty ? " * 

But we should not confound true strength, true courage, 
true patience, with false strength and ridiculous obstinacy. 

" An acquaintance of mine," says again Epictetus, "had, for no reason, 
determined to starve himself to death. I went the third day, and in- 
quired what was the matter. He answered : * I am determined. ' — 
' Well ; but what is your motive ? For, if your determination be right, 
we will stay, and assist your departure ; but if unreasonable, change 
it. ' — ' We ought to keep our determinations. '— ' What do you mean, sir ? 
Not all of them ; but such as are right. Else, if you should fancy that 
it is night, if this be your principle, do not change, but persist and say, 
" We ought to keep to our determinations." ' What do you mean, sir ? 
Not to all of them. Why do you not begin by first laying the founda- 
tion, inquiring whether your determination be a sound one, or not ; and 
then build your firmness and constancy upon it. For, if you lay a 
rotten and crazy foundation, you must not build ; since the greater and 
more weighty the superstructure, the sooner will it fall. Without any 
reason you are wthdrawing from us, out of life, a friend, a companion, 
a fellow-citizen both of the greater and the lesser city ; and while you 
are committing murder, and destroying an innocent person, you say, 
"We must keep to our determinations." Suppose, by any means, it 
should ever come into your head to kill me ; must you keep to such a 
determination ? ' 

" With difficulty this person was, however, at last convinced; but 
there are some at ])resent, whom there is no convincing ... a fool will 
neither bend nor break." t ^ 

161. Moderation. — The ancients always associated with pa- 
tience! in adversity another kind of courage, no less rare and 

* Tlic Works of Epictetus. T. W. Ili^'Kiiisou's translation, eh. vi., p. 21. 

t The Works of Epictetus. T. W. IIij,'ginson's translation, eh. xv., page l.W. 



DUTIES BELATIVE TO THE WILL. 289 

difficult, namely, moderation in prosperity. It was for them, 
in some respects, one and the same virtue, exercised in two 
opposite conditions, and this is what they call equanimity. 

" 'Now, during our prosperity," says Cicero, " and while 
things flow agreeably to our desire, we ought, with great care, to 
avoid pride and arrogance ; for, as it discovers weakness not 
to bear adversity with equanimity, so also with prosperity. 
That equanimity, in every condition of life, is a noble attri- 
bute, and that uniform expression of countenance which we 
find recorded of Socrates, and also of Caius Lselius. Panse- 
tius tells us, his scholar and friend, Africanus, used to say that 
as horses, grown unruly by being in frequent engagements, 
are delivered over to be tamed by horse-breakers, thus men, 
who grow riotous and self-sufficient by prosperity, ought, as it 
were, to be exercised in the traverse * of reason and philoso- 
phy, that they may learn the inconstancy of human affairs and 
the uncertainty of fortune.! 

IsTothing occurs more frequently among the ancient poets 
and moralists than this idea of the vicissitude of human 
things. The metaphor of Fortune's wheel, which sometimes 
lowers to the greatest depth those it raised highest, is well 
known. We need scarcely dwell upon this commonplace say- 
ing which has never, for an instant, ceased to be true ; 
although the more regular conditions of modern society have 
introduced more security and uniformity in life, at least for 
those who live Mdsely and with moderation. Yet is no one 
secure against the changes of fortune ; there are unexpected 
elevations as there are sudden falls ; and firmness in either 
bad or good fortune will always be necessary. 

162. Equality of temper; anger. — To equality of temper 
or possession of one's self, there is still another obligation at- 
tached : that of avoiding anger, a passion which the ancients 
with reason considered the principle of courage, | but wliich 

* Latin, gy7'^^s, the ring in which colts are driven round by horse-breakers, 
t Cicero, De Officiis, I., xxvi. 

t Plato's Beimllic, I., iv. : A man deserves to be called courageous Avhen that 
part of his soul in which anger resides obeys the commands of reason. 



290 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

of itself is without any rules, and is more proper to beasts 
than men. Aristotle has described the irascible disposition 
Avith great accuracy. He justly distinguishes two kinds of 
anger ; one where a man is easily carried away, and as easily 
appeased again, and the other where resentment is nursed 
and kept up for a long time. The tirst is the irascible dispo- 
sition ; the second, the splenetic or vindictive disposition. 

" Irascible men," says Aristotle, " are easily angered, with improper 
objects, on improper occasions, and too much; but their anger quickly 
ceases, and this is the best point in their character. And this is the 
case with them, because they do not restrain their anger, but retaliate 
openly and visibly, because of their impetuosity, and then they become 
calm. — But the bitter are difficult to be appeased, and retain their anger 
a long time, for they repress their rage ; but there comes a cessation, 
when they have retaliated ; for revenge makes their anger cease, because 
it produces pleasure instead of the previous pain. But if they do not 
get revenge, they feel a weight of disappointment : for, owing to its not 
showing itself, no one reasons with them ; and there is need of time for 
a man to digest his anger within him. Persons cf this character are 
very troublesome to themselves, and to their best friends. " * 

Seneca, in his treatise on Anger, has conclusively shown all 
the evils this passion carries with it, and of which Horace 
justly said : " Anger is a short madness." 

Yet, if anger is an evil, apathy, absolute indifference, is far 
from being a good. Whilst there is a brutal and beastly 
anger, there is also a noble, a generous anger, namely, that 
which is at the service of noble sentiments. Plato describes 
it in the following terms : 

" When we are convinced that injustice has been done us, 
does it not plead the cause of what appears to it to be just 1 
Instead of allowing itself to be overcome by hunger, by 
cold, by all sorts of ill-treatments, does it not overcome them 1 
It never ceases a moment to make generous efforts toward 
obtaining satisfaction, and nothing but death depriving it of its 
power, or reason persuading or silencing it, as the shepherd 
silences his dog, can stop it."t 

* Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, R. W. Browne's traiisl., IV., v. 
t Plat(/8 Ilepublic, I., iv. 



DUTIES RELATIVE TO THE WILL. 291 

Aristotle also approves of this generous anger, and blames 
those with souls too cold : 

"One can only call stupid those who cannot be aroused to anger 
about thmgs where real anger ought to be felt. . . He who does not 
then get angry appears insensible and ignorant of what just indignation 
means. One might even believe him, since he has no feeling of courage, 
unable to defend himself when necessary. But it is the cowardice of 
the slave's to accept an insult and to allow his kin to be attacked with 
impunity." * 

But that which is not easy, as Aristotle remarks, is to find 
an exact and proper medium between apathy and violence : 

" It is difficult to determine with accuracy the manner, the 
persons, the occasions, and the length of time for which one 
ought to be angry, and at what point one ceases to act rightly 
or wrongly. For he who transgresses the limit a little is not 
blamed, whether it be on the side of excess or deficiency : and 
we sometimes praise those who fall short, and call them meek ; 
and we call the irascible manly, as being able to govern . . . 
the decision must be left to particular cases, and to the moral 
sense." f 

163. Personal dignity. — A generous anger, as has been 
seen, has its principle in the sentiment of ijersonal dignity, 
with which the duty of self-resiJed is connected. 

Man's free will is what essentially constitutes the dignity 
of human nature, the moral personality. Man's duty toward 
himself as a moral personality is then dependent upon his 
will. 

This duty of self-respect, of the moral personality, has been 
admirably expressed by Kant, and we can do no better than 
transcribe here the passage : 

" Man, considered as an animal, is a being of but mediocre 
importance, and is not worth any more than other animals. 
His utility and worth is that of any marketable thing. — But, 

* Anger is still nobler when provoked by injustice done to others. 
t Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, IV., v. 



29^ ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. 

considered as a personality, he is priceless ; he is possessed of 
a dignity which can claim the respect of all other reasonable 
creatures, and which allows him to measure himself with 
each of them, and consider himself their equal, 

" But this respect, which he has a right to exact of every 
other man, he should not despoil himself of. He can, and 
should, therefore, estimate himself both in ratio to his great- 
ness and littleness, according as he considers himself a sen- 
suous being (in his animal nature), or an intelligent being (in 
his moral nature). But as he should not only consider him- 
self as a person in general, but also as an individual man, his 
lesser worth as animal-man should not impair the conscious- 
ness he has of his dignity as reasonable man, and he must 
hold on to the moral estimate he makes of himself as such. 
In other words, he should not pursue his aims in a lowly and 
servile manner, as if he solicited favors : this w^ould be abdi- 
cating his dignity ; he should always uphold within himself 
the consciousness of the nobility of his moral faculties, for it 
is this estimate of one's self which constitutes the duty of 
man toward himself. 

" The consciousness and conviction of our little moral worth, 
compared with what the law requires of us, is moral humility. 
The contrary consciousness and conviction, namely, the per- 
suading ourselves, for want of this comparison, that we are of 
very great worth, may be called the pride of virtue. — To 
reject all claim to any moral worth whatsoever, in the hope of 
acquiring thereby a hidden worth, is a false moral humility 
and an abasement of the mind. To undervalue one's own 
moral worth for the purpose of obtaining thereby the favor of 
another (through hypocrisy or flattery, namely), is also a false 
humility, and, moreover, an abasement of one's personality. 
True liumility should of necessity be the result of an exact 
and sincere comparis(m of on(;'s self with the moral law (with 
its sanctity and severity). This duty relative to the human 
dignity in our personality may be more or less clearly stated 
in the following precepts : Be no man's slave ; let not your 



DUTIES KELATIVE TO THE WILL. 293 

rights be trampled under foot ; contract no debts for which 
you cannot give full security ; accept no gifts which you can 
do without : be neither a parasite, nor a flatterer, nor a beggar; 
complaints and lamentations, even a single cry wrung from us 
by bodily pain, are things unworthy of us (still more unworthy 
if the pain is deserved). Therefore is a criminal's death en- 
nobled by the firmness with which he meets it. Can he 
who makes himself a worm complain if he be crushed ? " * 

164. True and false pride. — We should, however, not 
confound a true and noble pride, without which man is but a 
thing and a slave, with a passion which looks like it, but 
wdiich is but its phantom ; I mean false pride. True pride is 
the just feeling man has of his moral dignity, and which in- 
terdicts him to humble the human personality in others, or to 
allow it to be humbled in himself. False pride is the exag- 
gerated feehng we entertain in regard to our own advantages 
and superiority over other men. True pride is related to 
what there is sacred and divine in us ; false pride, on the 
contrary, feeds and grows fat on the trifling and petty con- 
cerns of our mere individuality. There is in man, the stoics 
said, an inner god : the human essence, namely, of which the 
individual is but the depository, and which he ought to 
keep sacred and holy as a divine host. This respect for 
the human personality, religious morality calls holiness ; 
Avorldly morality calls it honor ; it is one and the same prin- 
ciple under different forms ; it is the idea of something sacred 
in us which we must neither stain nor debase. True pride 
rests then on what there is common among all men, on what 
makes tliem equals. False pride, on the contrary, regards 
chiefly our peculiarities, and what we call more especially our 
own. True pride asks for nothing more than to be free from 
oppression ; false pride wants to oppress others. True pride 
is noble ; false pride, brutal and insolent. Of course it has 
its degrees according to the nature of the advantages of 

* Kaut, Doctrine de la Vertu, trad, f rang., p. 96. 



^94 ELEMENTS OE 3I0RALS. 

which it boasts. The pride, for example, which boasts of 
material advantages, is the grossest of all ; pride of birth and 
ancestry is more pardonable, but if he who is proud of them 
shows it too much he becomes disgusting, and true pride will 
have a right to protect itself against that kind of false pride. 
He, again, who is proud of his intellectual advantages is less 
blameworthy than the former, for these advantages belong, at 
least, to his personality ; but as they are not due to the man, 
and as, however great they may be, they have still their weak 
sides, this also is an inexcusable pride. The pride which 
might appear to be the most pardonable is the pride of virtue, 
if there were not in some respects a sort of contradiction of 
terms in drawing advantage and honor from a good the 
essentiality of which consists in self-forgetfulness and the 
pure and simple observance of the law. 

The diminutive of false pride is vanity. False pride looks 
to great things, at least to such as appear great to men; 
vanity boasts of the smallest. False pride is insulting ; van- 
ity wounding. The one is odious, the other ridiculous. The 
lowest order of vanity is foppishness, or the vanity of external 
advantages — the person, the toilet, superficial accomplishments. 
This diminutive of false pride is one of the most pitiable of 
passions, and should be combated by manly efforts. 

165. Modesty. — The virtue opposed to false pride, and 
which, besides, is nowise irreconcilable with true pride, is 
modesty, a correct feeling, namely, of one's just worth. Mo- 
rality does not forbid us a proper estimate of our merits ; tliese 
merits, besides, having but a relative value, and representing 
but faintly the high ideal we should always keep before our 
eyes. To fail to appreciate the advantages we owe to nature, 
is often indicative only of laziness and apathy. He who 
depreciates himself is not disposed to turn what there is in him 
to account. This self-depreciation, in order to avoid the re- 
sponsibility of using his faculties, is often but a subterfuge 
and the sophistry of indolence. There is nothing contrary to 
duty in the acknowledgment of our worth, so long as we do 



DUTIES RELATIVE TO THE WILL. 295 

not boast of it, but thank Providence for it, and put to use 
the gifts it has conferred on us. If, on the contrary, the 
question is of virtues we have acquired by our own efforts, the 
satisfaction we experience from it is but the just recompense 
of these efforts ; and such a feeling could not be condemned ; 
for such condemnation would be a virtual protest against the 
moral conscience, which consists as much in the satisfaction we 
derive from good actions as in the regrets which accompany 
the bad. 

Unquestionably, " the left hand should not know what the 
right hand doeth ; " which means that we should not every- 
where proclaim aloud our good actions, and that we should as 
much as possible forget them. But this forgetting should not 
go so far as indifference ; for our morality depends upon our 
consciousness. 

But if it is lawful for man to rejoice over his natural or ac- 
, quired gifts, it is on the condition that he do not exaggerate 
their import : this is easy enough if we compare ourselves to 
those who are still better gifted than we are, or think of what 
we should and could do with greater efforts, more courage, 
better will ; or in recognizing the narrow scope, limits, and 
defects of these gifts, or in keeping, above all, our eyes more 
open to our faults than our good qualities. Beware of the 
beam of the Gospel. 

Modesty should not only be external, but internal also ; ex- 
ternally, it is above all a duty we owe others, whom we should 
not humble by our superior advantages ; internally, it is a 
duty to ourselves, for we should not deceive ourselves about 
our own worth. One is sometimes modest externally without 
being so internally, and conversely. I may pretend before 
men to have no great opinion of myself, whilst internally I am 
full of conceit : this is sheer hypocrisy. I may, on the other 
hand, externally attribute to myself advantages which my con- 
science altogether denies : this is bragging. One should be 
modest both inwardly and outwardly, in words and actions. 
But how, in what manner, and to what degree must we be 



296 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

modest ? It is impossible in matters so delicate to establish 
definite rules, and the decision must be left to our own judg- 
ment. 

There is another virtue to be distinguished from modesty, 
namely, liumility. Humility should not be an abasement ; for 
it is never a virtue in man to lower himself. But, even as 
dignity and true pride are virtues which spring from a proper 
sense of human greatness, so humility is a virtue which 
springs from a proper sense of human weakness. Kemember 
that thou art a man and do not degrade thyself : this is self- 
respect. Remember that thou art but a man and do not allow 
thyself to indulge in vain pride ; this is humility. Modesty 
relates to the individual ; humility to human nature in gen- 
• eral. As to that false humility which consists in lowering 
one's self before men unnecessarily, and without any occasion 
for it (like Tartufe, for example : 

"Yes, brother, I am a sinner and a wretch ! " *), 
it is but the falsehood of virtue, and should be rejected by all 
manly and generous morality. 

166, Duties relative to sentiment. — A last point which 
should not be neglected is this : lias man, as far'as he is en- 
dowed with moral sensibility — that is to say, as far as he is a 
susceptible being — capable of love, enthusiasm, affection, any 
duties toward himself ? 

Kant maintains that love cannot be an object of duty ; that 
no one is obliged to love : that sentiment is phenomenal and 
belongs to the order of nature, and can neither be produced 
nor prevented ; that, consequently, it has nothing to do with 
morals. The only love admitted by Kant in morals is what 
he calls practical love : namely, the love which consists in 
actions and does others good, or any kind of sentiment accom- 
panying benevolence, provided it be a disinterested sentiment. 
" All other love," he says in his odd and energetic language, 
*' is pathological^'' that is, sickly. 

♦ Moliere's Tartufe. 



DmEii RELATIVE TO THE WILL. 297 

Kant, no donbt, is right if he means that false sentimen- 
taiity or feeble softness,^ which the poet Gilbert has so well 
described, and which ^le enerrating Hteratnre of the latter part 
of the ei^teentii century made so ndiculons. We should take 
care not to fall into an effeminate tenderness or a sill j phLLan- 
thropj which sacrifices josdce to a mawkish sensibiLitj. But 
all danger and defects set aside, there still remains the ques- 
tion whether we owe anything to our own heart, and whether 
the only thing dizecdy commanded ns, be action. 

It is qmte true that it is not an effect of onr will if our 
heait is more or less tender, more or less sympathetic Xatnre 
has made some sonls gentle and amiable, otheis ansteie and 
cold, others again heroic and hard, etc.; the moralists should 
not forget these differences, and the de^ee of sensibility obli- 
gatoiy on all cannot be abeolutelj determined. But there are 
two facts which certainly oblige' us to ^t some restrictions 
upon Eanf s too har^ doctrine. The first is that moral 
emotion (alEection, enthusiasm for the b^utiful, for our coun- 
tbry) is never wholly absent in any human soul ; the second is 
that sensibility does not altogether lie outside our wilL We 
can smother our good feelings as we can smother our eyil pas- 
sions ; we can also cultiTate them, develop them, encourage 
them ; give them a greater or less share in our lives, by plac- 
ing oorselves in circumstances which favor them. For ex- 
ample, say such or such a person is but slightly endowed with 
sensibility or sympathy for the sufferings of the wretched ; 
yet is it impossible that he be entirely deprived of them : let 
him overcome his repugnance and indifference ; let him visit 
the poor, put himself at the service of human misery ; the 
dormant sympathy will inevitably awaken in his heart. By 

« And dan I ^eak of £98, lofvd and pniaeil liy an ? 
Ak ! wtafc keart ! all E vtefc kort ! hminBity itadf ! 
A wonded liHttBdIy eaSi fDrtk Oe tniesfc teais E 
Ak,yes; IntvkeB to dea<Bh poor lal^ m wdf— ed, 
Aad to the Hock K di^BBd, a ^eelade to an, 
bB wfll Ik tte fiist to go to Oe diead faut. 



298 ELEMEN'TS OF MORALS. 

this fact alone will he be enabled to do good with more ease, 
and raise his soul to a higher degree of perfection and beauty. 
Not only should sentiment not be excluded from virtue, as 
Kant in his excessive austerity demands, but it should be con- 
sidered its ornament and bloom. " The virtuous man," says 
Aristotle, "is he who takes pleasure in doing virtuous acts." 
One should therefore endeavor to awaken in one's self, if one 
has not yet experienced it, or develop, if one has already ex- 
perienced it, the noble pleasure which accompanies great 
sentiments. On the other hand, and for the same reason 
that it is a duty for man to develop within him, in the limits 
of the possible, the share of sensibility he may have received 
from nature, it is also his duty not to encourage this same dis- 
position too much if he should be inclined this way. For 
sensibility should only be an auxiliary and a stimulant to 
virtue ; it should never take its place : otherwise it will lead 
us astray. An exaggerated sensibility often smothers the 
voice of justice, enervates us, and deprives us of the robust 
courage we need in life. There is a reasonable limit which 
tact and experience alone can teach us. Morality can only 
give advice and directions. More precise rules are impossible, 
and would be ridiculous. There is no moral thermometer to 
indicate the degree of heart-heat each of us is allowed and is 
obliged to have. Let us only say, that in so delicate a 
matter, it is better to have too much sensibility than too 
little. 



CHAPTEE XV. 

RELIGIOUS MORALITY. — RELIGIOUS RIGHTS AN'D DUTIES. 



SUMMARY. 

Are there duties toward God ? 

Duties toward God.— Analysis of the religious sentiment.— Two 

elements : 1, the sentiment of the infinite; 2, the need of hope and 

consolation. 
Can sentiment become a duty ? 
Indirect duties toward God. — Piety united with all the acts of life : 

1, obedience ; 2, resignation ; 3, love of God united to that of man. 
The idea of God in morals. — God the surety of the moral law. 
Religious society. — Fenelon and Epictetus. 
Religious rights. — Liberty of conscience : liberty of opinion, liberty of 

worship, liberty of propagandism. 

It is not our purpose to speak here of the different forms of 
religious thought among men : tliis is the special domain of 
conscience ; but among all these forms, is there no common 
ground which may be said to belong to the human soul, and 
which is found to be the same with the sages of pagan an- 
tiquity and the modern philosophers, although they may not 
have adopted any special form of worship 1 Yes. This com- 
mon ground of all religion is the idea of God. 

167. Are there any duties toward God? — If, as we have 
seen in our first book (Vol. I., last chapter), there is a God, that 
is to say, an author of the physical and moral universe, and its 
preserver and protector and father, it follows that man, as 
a part of this universe, and distinguished from its other creat- 
ures by the fact that he knows himself to be a child of God, 
is held to entertain toward this supreme father, sentiments of 



300 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

gi^atitude and respect, and toward this supreme judge senti- 
ments of fear and hope, all of which gives rise to a whole class 
of duties. 

Some doubts have been raised on this point by certain 
philosophers, and the question has been asked w^hether man, 
so out of all proportion when compared to God, could have 
any duties toward Him ? It has been said, moreover, that 
there could be no duty toward a being to whom we can do 
neither good nor harm. God, the essence of all perfection 
and supreme happiness, can have nothing added to nor taken 
from these by us. We are therefore under no obligation to 
him whatsoever. 

1. As for the absolute disproportion we imagine to exist 
between God and man, this disproportion does not prevent my 
having an idea of God : why should it prevent my loving 
him and putting myself in relation with him 1 Fenelon justly 
said : " Nothing is so wonderful as the idea of God which I 
carry within myself ; it is the infinite contained within the 
finite. That which is within me is infinitely beyond me. I 
do not understand how it comes to be in my mind, and yet it 
is there, nevertheless. This indelible and incomprehensible 
idea of the Divine Being is what, despite my imperfection 
and weakness, makes me resemble him. As he infinitely 
knows and loves himself, so do I, according to my power, 
know and love him. I can love the infinite by no other 
means than by my finite knowledge, and love it by no other 
than a love as finite as myself. ... I wish my love 
were as limitless as the perfection it loves. It is true, again, 
that this knowledge and this love are not equally as perfect 
as their object, but the man who knows and loves God accord- 
ing to his measure of knowledge and love is incomparably 
more worthy of this perfect being than tlie man without God 
in the world, caring neither to know nor to love him."* 
Hence it can be concluded that the duties of man toward 
God arci implied in the knowledge he has of him. 

* Lettre sur la mitaphysiqrie, lettre II., chap, ix. 



KELIGIOUS MOKALITY. 301 

2. As to the second difficult}^, it consists in saying that 
God being susceptible of neither benefits nor injuries, it is 
not quite clear what acts we could perform in his behalf. 
But the question is precisely to know whether we only owe 
duties to beings susceptible of benefits and injuries. We 
have, for example, to perform duties of justice, love, respect 
toward the dead, although we can do them neither good nor 
harm, since they are dead ; and although we have reason to 
think that the dead still exist under another form, the duties 
we still owe them, are independent of this consideration, and 
notwithstanding the doubt of the immortality of souls, or their 
relations with the living, these duties still subsist : those souls 
might be so happy, and in conditions so different from those of 
our earthly life, that they might have become wholly indifferent 
to such, at least to harm. A historian, for instance, would 
not be justified in slandering his heroes under the pretext 
that, not believing in the immortality of the soul, he knew he 
could do them no harm. Man, even in this life, can, through 
patience and gentleness, so rise above all insults as to become 
wholly insensible to them : which fact, however, does not im- 
ply that the insults done him are innocent. The same man 
might be so modest as to feel no need of any homage, which 
would make it no less a duty of justice on the part of others 
to render him all the homage that is due him. Wholly in- 
ward feelings, not evidenced by any outward act whatsoever, 
cannot in reality do their object any good or harm ; yet no one 
will question their being duties. It may then be seen that duty 
is not regulated by the good or evil which may outwardly be 
done, but by the order of things which requires that every being 
be loved and respected according to his merit. Now, from this 
standpoint, there can be no doubt that God, who is supreme 
perfection and the principle of all order and justice, is the 
legitimate object of the highest respect and the profoundest 
love. 

It may be said, perhaps, that these sentiments toward the 
Creator are rather duties we owe ourselves than God^ for it is 



302 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. 

for our o^vn sakes that we are bound to give to our sensibilit}^ 
and affection the highest object they can have. Since the 
perfection and the dignity of the soul are enhanced by reli- 
gion, it is our duty to be religious. 

Fenelon is quite right when he says that " the man who 
knows and loves God is more worthy of him than he who 
lives without him." Is it not the same as to say that religion 
rendering man more like God, and bringing him nearer to 
him, man owes it to himself to rise above himself through 
piety and the love of God ? 

But it matters very little how we explain the nature of the 
duties toward God, provided we recognize them. Whether 
they be considered a distinct class, or whether we only see in 
them the highest degree of man's duties toward himself ; all 
this is but a useless speculation. We could say conversely, 
and with equal justice, that our duties toward ourselves are 
but a part of our duties toward God : for duty itself, in its 
highest conception, being to reach after the highest possible 
perfection, we can say, with Plato, that virtue is the imitation 
of God ; that, consequently, man owes it to himself to re- 
semble God as much as possible, and that, conversely, he 
owes God, as the type of supreme perfection, to draw ever 
nearer to him through self-improvement. But how could he 
seek to draw nearer to God's supreme perfection if he did not 
entertain for him the feelings of love and respect, which con- 
stitute what we, in general, call religious sentiment 1 

168. Duties toward God. — Analysis of the religious 
sentiment, — What is called duties toward God is nothing 
else than the different acts by which wo endeavor to bring 
about, cultivate, develop in us, or in others, religious senti- 
ment. Wlien these acts are external, and take a certain defi- 
nite form, they constitute what is called outward worslii}!, and 
are conse(iuent upon positive religions. When they are con- 
centrated in the soul, and confined to sentiments, they con- 
stitutes what is called inner worsMj). The virtue which cor- 
responds to these inner acts and sentiments is called ^dety. 



RELIGIOUS MORALITY. 303 

The duties toward God being thus blended with rehgious 
sentiment we must, in order to set them forth, iii'st analyze 
this sentiment. 

EeHgious sentiment is composed of two elements : one 
wliich may be called metaphysical -j"^ the other, moral. 1. Met- 
aphysically, the love of God is the sentiment of the infinite, 
the need of attaching ourselves to the absolute, the eternal, 
the immutable, the true in itself — in one word, to Being. The 
thinking man, and even the thoughtless man, looking at him- 
self, tinds himself small, feeble, miserable. " Oh I "' exclaims 
Bossuet, " how much we are nothing I " " Man becomes vile 
to himself, '" says St. Bernard. " Man feels that he is frail, 
that his life hangs but on a thread, that he is constantly pass- 
ing away. The goods of the world are perishable. The 
fashion of this world passeth away. We neither know who 
we are, whence we come, whither we are going, nor what sus- 
tains us during the short period of our lives. ^Ve are sus- 
pended between heaven and earth : between two infinities ; 
we stand as on quicksands." All these strong expressions of 
mystics and religious writers admirably express the need we 
stand in of the absolute, the immutable, the perfect, — a need 
felt more particularly by devout minds, but which all men, 
without exception, experience in some degTee or other, and 
which they endeavor to satisfy the best they can. All our 
efforts to reach the absolute in science, in art, in politics even, 
are but the forms in which this need of the absolute manifests 
itself. The insatiable pursuit of the gTatification of the pas- 
sions even is, also, under a vain appearance, the same need. It 
is this feeling of the eternal and the infinite, which the greatest 
metaphysicians all regarded as the ultimate foundation of 
morality. Plato, Plotinus, Malebranche, Spinoza, all enjoin 
upon us to seek eternal, in preference to perishable, goods. 



* Metaphysics is the science which treats of what is beyond and above nature. We 
call ?n<;/a ;)/ii/mY<Z such attributes of Gotl by which he surpasses nature; as, for in- 
stance, infinitude, immensity ; the moral attributes, on the contrary, ai-e those which 
have their analogies in the human soul, such as kindness, wisdom, etc. 



304 ELEMENTS OE MORALS. 

This sentiment, conscious of ever striving after the substance 
of good and not its shadow, is the profoundest, nearest, and 
dearest element of religious sentiment, 

2. Thus much in regard to the metaphysical element of 
religion : next conies the moral element. God does not only 
appear to the human soul as a being infinite, inexhaustible, 
eternal. The soul wants him nearer, and in her respectful 
boldness she calls him Father. Man is not only feeble and 
imperfect ; he is also a sinner and a sufferer ; evil is his con- 
dition. The frailty of our being and its narrow limits are 
already an evil ; but these are the least of evils ; humanity 
suffers, furthermore, from a double evil far more real and poig- 
nant : pain and sin. Against physical pain, suffering, it has 
but the feeble resource of prudence ; against moral evil it has 
but one nieans of defense, very weak also — free-will. It would 
seem that w^e are the masters of the universe ; but experience 
shows, on the contrary, that we are the feeblest among its creat- 
ures ; often does the will succumb ; and Kant himself, despite 
his stoicism, asks whether indeed a single act of virtue has 
ever been accomplished in the world. Life, on the whole, 
notwithstanding its grand aspects and its few exquisite and 
sublime joys, life is bad; all ends badly, and death, which 
puts an end to all evils, is yet the greatest of evils. " The 
human soul," says Plato, " like a bird, raises its eyes to 
heaven," and calls for a remedy, a help, a deliverance. " Deliver 
us from evil," is the cry of every religion. God is the liber- 
V tO ator and comforter. We love what is good and we do what 
^^wQ^aAA- ^ ^^ ^^^j _ ^^^ impatiently desire happiness, and meet with noth- 
ing but wretchedness. Such is the contradiction Pascal 
points out with such incisive eloquence. This contradiction 
must be removed. Hope and trust in a supreme and benev- 
olent Being must ransom us from pain and sin. 

Many i)ersons place the essence of religion in the l)clicf in 
a future life, or immortality of the soul. Who, without the 
hope of gaining paradise, would think of God? But this is a 
contradiction in teruis. Paradise, for the true believer, is 



RELIGIOUS MORALITY. 305 

nothing ; God, everything. If a future life is a necessary con- 
sequence of the divine justice and bounty, we need not doubt 
its existence ; if not, we have nothing to ask ; it does not 
concern us. What especially concerns us is to know what we 
ought to do here below, and to have the strength to do it with. 
" Life is a meditation, not of death, hid of life,'^ said Spinoza. 
But in order to live, and live well, one raust believe in life, 
must believe in its healthy and holy significance, believe 
that it is not mere play, a mere mystification, but that it was 
given us by the principle of good for the success of good. 

The essence of religion, then, is a belief in the goodness of 
God. A German critic, Feuerbach, said with gn?eat effect, 
that religion consisted in divinizing human attributes. Thus : 
God is good, means according to him : goodness is divine. 
God is just, signifies : justice is divine. The boldness of 
Christianity, its profound, pathetic beauty, its great moral 
efficacy lie in the fact that it has divinized our miseries ; and 
that, instead of saying, pain is divine, death is divine, it has 
said : God has suff'ered, God has died. In a word, according 
to the same author, God "is the human heart divinized." 
N'othing could be more true and beautiful, only in another 
sense than that in which the author takes it. If God himself 
was not supreme goodness, the heart of man would then con- 
tain something divine, and God Avould not himself be divine ! 
The heart feels that it exceeds all things, but, in order to 
believe in itself, it must know itself coming from a higher and 
purer source than it is itself. 

" In tliinking of such a being (God), man experiences a sentiment 
which is above all a religious sentiment. Every man, as we come into 
contact with him, awakens in ns a feeling of some kind, according to 
the qualities we perceive in him, and should not He who possesses all 
perfections excite in us the strongest of feelings ? If we think of tlie 
infinite essence of God, if we are thoroughly imi)ressed by his omnipo- 
tence, if we remember that the moral law expresses his will, and that he 
has attached to the fulfillment and violation of this law, rewards and 
punishments which he distributes with inflexible justice, we must of 
necessity experience before such greatness emotions of respect and fear. 
If next we come to consider that this omnipotent being was pleased to 



306 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

create us, we, whom he had no need of, and that in creating us he 
heaped upon us benefits of all kinds, that he has given us this universe 
to enjoy its ever renewed beauties, that he has given us society that our 
life may become enlarged in that of our fellow-beings, that he has given 
us reason to think, a heart to love, liberty to act, that same respect 
and fear will receive additional strength from a still gentler sentiment, 
namely, that of love. Love, when directed toward feeble and circum- 
scribed beings, inspires us with the desire to do them good : but, in 
itself, love does not especially consider the advantage of the person 
beloved : we love a thing, good or- beautiful, simply because it is good 
or beautiful, and without thought of benefiting it ; or benefiting our- 
selves. How much more so when this love i& turned to God, as a pure 
homage to his perfections ; when it is the natural outpouring of the 
soul, toward a being infinitely adorable. 

"Adoration consists in respect and love. If man, however, sees in 
God the omnipotent master of heaven and earth only, the source of all 
justice and the avenger of all wrong, he will, in his weakness, be 
crushed by the overwhelming weight of God's greatness : he will be 
living a life of perpetual fear, from the ui|icertainty of the judgment of 
God ; he will conceive for this world and life, always so full of misery, 
nothing but hatred. Read Pascal's Thoughts. Pascal, in his sui)erb 
humility, forgets two things : the dignity of man and the goodness of 
God. If, on the other hand, man only sees in God a kind and indulgent 
Father, he will run into a chimerical mysticism. In substituting love 
for fear, there is danger of losing the awe which we should have for him. 
God is then no longer a master, scarcely a father even ; for the idea of 
father carries with it, in a certain degree, that of a respectful fear : he is 
nothing more than a friend. True adoration does not sever love from 
respect : it is respect animated by love. 

" Adoration is a universal sentiment ; it differs in degrees according to 
the diff'erences in human nature ; it takes the greatest variety of forms ; 
it often does not even know itself; sometimes it betrays itself by a sud- 
den exclamation, a cry from the heart over the grand scenes of nature 
and life ; sometimes it rises silently in the deeply-moved and dumb- 
stricken soul ; it may in its expression mistake its aim ; but funda- 
mentally it is always the same. It is a spontaneous and irresistible 
yearning of the soul, which reason must declare just and legitimate. 
What more just, in fact, than to fear the judgments of Him who is holi- 
ness itself, who knows our actions and our intentions, and who will 
judge them as it becomes supreme justice ? What more just, also, than 
to love perfect goodness and tlie source of all love ? Adoration is first 
a natural sentiment : reason makes of it a duty." * 

* V. Cousin, Le Vrai, le Beau et le Blen, xvi* Icron. 



4 1 



RELIGIOUS MORALITY. 307 

These two sentiments, love and respect, may, inasmuch as 
ley relate to God — that is to say, to an infinite being — be re- 
solved into one, which we call veneration. Veneration is the 
respect mixed with love which we feel for our aged parents, 
for some exalted virtue, for devotion to a suffering country ; 
but it is only through extension we so understand it : its true 
object, its proper domain, is the divinity; * and if there are 
other objects to he revered and venerated, it is because we 
detect in them something august and sacred. 

It will, perhaps, be said that sentiments cannot be erected 
into duties : for how can I force myself to feel what I do not 
feel 1 Acts can be commanded, but not sentiments. 

This is true ; but the acts, in the first place, are nothing 
without the sentiments, and if piety is not already in the 
heart, the most pious works will have no virtue. Moreover, 
if it be true that it is impossible to generate, either in one's 
self or in others, sentiments, the germs of which do not exist 
in human nature, it is not true that sentiments in conformity 
with this nature, and which, whilst we believe them completely 
absent, may only be dormant, could not be excited, awakened, 
cultivated, and developed. Now, it is enough to think of 
divine greatness, to experience a feeling of fear and respect ; 
it is enough to think of divine perfection, to love this perfec- 
tion, and seek to come nearer to it. Duty here consists, then, 
in thinking of God, in giving this great thought a part of our 
life, in uniting it with all the acts of that life : these senti- 
ments will, then, be generated and will expand of themselves. 

169. Piety united with ail the acts of life : indirect duties 
toward God. — We have just said that the idea of God can 
be united with all the acts of life. Every action being the 
fulfillment of the will of Providence, can be both moral and 
religious. He wlio works, prays, says the proverb; a life which 
strives to preserve itself pure and virtuous, is a continuous 

* See Dictionnaire de V Academie fmngaise (T^ edition, 187S) : " Veneration, respect 
for holy things. It is also said of the resi^ectful esteem iu wliich certain persons 
are held." 



308 ELEMEKTS OF MORALS. 

prayer. In this sense, all our duties are indirect duties toward 
God. 

1. OhediencQ to God, manifested by obedience to moral law. 
I can obey the moral law in two ways : on the one hand, be- 
cause it is a duty, whatever besides may be the reason of this 
duty, and next because this duty is in unison with universal 
order, which is the work of divine wisdom. To fulfill one's 
duty is, then, to co-operate in some respect with God in the 
achievement of this order. It is thus that in ancient religions, 
agriculture was regarded a religious act, because man took 
therein the part of the creator. 

2. Resignation to the will of Providence. — Patience is un- 
questionably a duty in itself. There is a lack of dignity in 
rebelling against evils which cannot be prevented ; but this is 
as yet a wholly negative virtue. It becomes a religious virtue 
if we regard the ills of life in the light of trials, and as the 
condition of a higher good, and expect to voluntarily submit 
to them as being in the plan of Providence. It is thus the 
Pythagoreans forbade suicide, saying that it was leaving the 
post in which God had placed us. 

It would, moreover, be interpreting this duty of resigna- 
tion very falsely to think that it commands us to bear trouble 
and make no effort to escape it. This were confounding Provi- 
dence with fatalism. On the contrary, God, having given us 
free will, not only permits us thereby, but even positively en- 
joins upon us, to use it in bettering our condition. 

3. Love of God conjoined 'with the love of man. — There is 
no real love of God without love of neighbor ; it is a false 
piety which thinks itself obliged to sacrifice the love of men 
to the love of God : thence come fanaticism, intolerance^ per- 
secidion. To believe these to be religious virtues is impious. 
We cannot please God by acts of hatred and cruelty. Thus 
is the love of God nothing without the love of men. 

P>ut it can also be said that the love of men is incomplete 
if it does not g(^t its su'tenance from a higher source, which is 
the love of God. We can, in fact, love men in two ways : 



I 



HELIGIOUS MORALITY. 309 

first, because they are men, because they are like us, because 
there is between them and us a natural bond of sympathy. 
But we can also love them because they are, like ourselves, 
members of the universe of which God is the sovereign ruler, 
members of a family of which God is the father, because, like 
ourselves, they reflect some of the attributes of supreme per- 
fection, because they ought, like us, to strive after all per- 
fection. We can then love men religiously, love them in 
God in some respect. Thus conversely to love men will be 
loving God. 

170. The idea of God in morals. — AVe have, in a former 
course of lectures, seen how the moral law is related to God : 
this law is certainly not dependent on his will alone, but on 
his hoHness and supreme perfection ; and it is still further 
related to him as to a supreme sanction. "We have to consider 
here only the practical epicaci/ of the idea of God — that is to 
say, the additional strength moral belief receives by a belief 
in absolute justice and holiness. It is on this condition and 
from this standpoint that Kant has called the existence of 
God the postulate * of the moral law. The moral law, in fact, 
supposes the world able to conform to this law ; but how are 
we to believe in such a possibility if this world were the eff'ect 
of a blind and indifferent necessity? " Since it is our duty," 
says Kant, " to work toward the realization of the supreme 
good, it is not only a right, but a necessity flowing from this 
duty, to suppose the possibility of this supreme good, which 
good is only possible on the condition of God's existence! . . . 
— "Suppose, for example," lie says elsewhere, "an honest man 
like Spinoza, firmly convinced that there is no God and no 
future life. He will, without doubt, fulfill disinterestedly the 
duty that holy law imposes on his activity ; but his eff'orts 
will be limited. If here and there he finds in nature ac- 
cidental co-operation, he can never expect of this co-operation 

* A postulate is a truth which, although it cannot be rigorously demonstrated 
should, neveilheless, by reason of the necessity of its consequences, be practically 
admitted. 

t Kaut, Critique de la raison pratique, II., ii. Trad, de J. Barni, p. 334. 



310 tlLEMEKTS OF MORALS. 

to be in perfect and constant accordance with the end he feels 
himself obliged to pursue. Though honest, peaceful, benev- 
olent himself, he will always be surrounded by fraud, vio- 
lence, envy ; in vain do the good people he meets deserve to 
be happy ; nature has no regard for their goodness, and ex- 
poses them, like all the rest of earth's animals, to disease and 
misery, to a premature death, until one vast tomb — the gulf 
of blind matter from which they issued — swallows them all 
up again. Thus would this righteous man be obliged to give 
up as absolutely impossible the end which the law imposed 
on him ; or, if he wished to remain true to the inner voice of 
his moral destiny, he will, from a practical point of view, be 
obliged to recognize the existence of a moral cause in the 
world, namely, God." Thus, according to Kant, is religion, 
namely, the belief in the existence of God, required, not as a 
theoretical basis for morality, but as a practical basis. " The 
righteous man can say : I will that there be a God." "^ 

It may be objected that moral law can dispense with out- 
ward success ; that it does not appear to be essential to the 
idea of that law ; that the wise, as far as their own happi- 
ness is concerned, need not consider it, can ignore it. But 
what they are obliged to consider, and are not allowed to ig- 
nore, is the happiness of others, and what is generally under- 
stood by progress — the possible improvement of the race. If, 
as some pessimistic and misanthropic philosophers seem to 
think, men will never be anything more than monkeys or 
tigers given to the lowest and most ferocious instincts, do you 
believe that any man, be he ever so well endowed morally, 
ever so deeply convinced of the obligation of the law of duty, 
could, if he believed such a thing, be able to continue doing 
his duty, a duty followed by no appreciable or perceptible 
results? The first condition for becoming or remaining vir- 
tuous, is to ])elieve in virtue. But to believe in virtue means 
to believe tliat virtue is a fact, tliat it exists in the Avorld, that 
it can do it good ; in other words, it is to believe that tlie 

♦ Critique de la raison pratique ; trad, fr., p. 363. 



EELIGIOUS MORALITY. 311 

human race was created for good ; that nature is capable of 
being transformed according to the law of good; it is, in 
short, to believe that the universe obeys a principle of good, 
and not a principle of evil — an Oromazes, not an Ahrimanes. 
As to believing in an indifferent being, one that were neither 
good nor evil, we should not be any better off; it would 
leave us just as uncertain in regard to the possible success 
of our efforts, and just as doubtful about the worth of our 
moral beliefs. 

In one word, and to conclude, if God were an illusion, why 
could not virtue be an illusion also ? In order that I may be- 
lieve in the dignity and excellence of my soul and that of 
other men, I must believe in a supreme principle of dignity 
and excellence. Xothing comes from nothing. If there is 
no being to love me and my fellow-men, why should I be held 
to love them ? If the world is not good, if it was not created 
for good, if good is not its origin and end, what have I to do 
here in this world, and what care I for that swarm of ants of 
which I am a part ? Let them get along as well as they can ! 
Why should I take so much trouble to so little purpose 1 Take 
any intelligent man, a friend of civil and political liberty, and 
ready to suffer anything to procure these to his country, as 
long as he believes the thing possible, both wisdom and virtue 
will command him to devote himself wholly to it. But let 
experience prove to him th-at it is a chimera, that his fellow- 
citizens are either too great cowards or too vicious to be 
worthy and capable of the good he wishes to secure to them ; 
suppose he sees all around him nothing but cupidity, servility, 
unbridled and abominable passions ; suppose, finally, that he 
becomes convinced that liberty among men, or at least among 
the people he lives with, is an illusion, do you think he could, 
do you even think he should, continue Avasting his faculties 
in an impossible enterprise 1 Once more, I can forget myself, 
and I ought ; and I should leave to internal justice or divine 
goodness the care to watch over my destinies ; but that which 
I cannot forget, that which cannot leave me indifferent, is the 



312 ELEMENTS OF 3I0RALS. 

reign of justice on earth. I must be able to say : Let Thy 
kingdom come / How can I co-operate witli the Divine Idea 
if there is no God, who, in creating us for the furthering of 
his kingdom, made it, at the same time, possible for us 1 And 
how am I to believe that out of that great void whereto athe- 
ism reduces us, there can come a reign of wills holy and just, 
bound to each other by the laws of respect and love 1 Kant, 
the great stoic, without borrowing from theology, has more 
strongly than any other, described the necessity of this reign 
of law ; but he fully understood that, this abstract and ideal 
order of things would remain but a pure conception, if there 
were not conjoined with it what he justly calls " the prac- 
tical, the moral faith " in the existence of God. 

171. Religious rights. — Religious duties imply religious 
rights : for if it is a duty to honor the Creator, it is also a 
right. Even those who do not admit obligations toward God, 
ought to respect in those who do admit them, their liberty 
to do so. The right of having a religion, and practicing it, 
is what is called liberty of conscience. 

" The first right I claim,", says an eloquent writer, " is the 
right of adopting a free belief touching the nature of God, my 
duties, my future ; it is a wholly interior right, which governs 
the relations of my will or conscience alone. It is tlie liberty 
of conscience in its essence, its first act, its indispensable basis. 
It is the liberty to believe, ox faith. Free in the innermost of 
my thought, shall I be confined to a silent worship 1 Shall I 
not be allowed to express what I tliink ? Faith is communi- 
cative, and will make itself felt by others. I cannot control 
its expressing itself without doing it violence, without offend- 
ing God, without rendering myself guilty of ingratitude. I 
cannot, moreover, worship a God that is not my God. The 
freedom of belief, without the freedom of prayer — that is to 
say, without free worship — is only a delusion. 

" Now, is prayer sufficient 1 Does this solitary expression of 
my faith, my love, my ignorance, suffice tlie wants of my 
heart and my duties toward God 1 Yes, if man were made to 



RELIGIOUS MOEALITY. 313 

live alone ; but not if he has brethren. I am a social being ; 
1 have duties toward society as well as toward God ; my 
creed commands me to teach as well as to pray. My voice 
must be heard, and I must, following my destiny, and ac- 
cording to the measure of my powers, carry along with me all 
those who are inclined to foUow me. This is the liberty of 
promulgating one's creed, or, in other words, the liberty of 
propagandism. 

" Worship, then, means to believe, to pray, to teach. But, 
can I consider myself a free believer, if praying in public be 
denied me ; if by praying, and teaching, and confessing my 
doctrine, I risk the loss of my rights as man and citizen ? 
There are other means for checking public worship and 
apostleship than burning at the stake. It is obvious that, in 
order no injustice be done to my particular creed, I should 
risk nothing by it ; that I be not deprived of any of my civil 
or political rights. All tliis is included in the term liberty of 
conscience : it is at the same time the right to believe, the 
right to pray, and the right to exercise this triple liberty with- 
out having to suffer any diminution in one's dignity as man 
and citizen."* 

172. Religious society. — Religious duties and rights 
give rise to what may be called religious society. Fenelon 
has magnificently described the ideal religious society where 
all would form but one family united by the love of God and 
men. 

"Do we not see," he says, "that the external worship follows 
necessarily the internal worship of love ? Give me a society of men 
who, while on earth, would look upon each other as members of one 
and the same family, whose Father is in heaven ; give me men whose 
life was sunk in this love for their heavenly Father, men who loved 
their fellow-men and themselves only through love for Hini ; who were 
but one heart, one soul : will not in so godly a society the mouth always 
speak from the abundance of the heart ? They will sing the praises of 

* Jules Simon, La Liierte de Conscience, 4^ legou (Paris, 1S57).— We have borrowed 
some few passages of another book of the same author. La Liberie (Vol. ii., 4*, part 1, 
ch. 1). 

14 



314 ELEMEI^TS OF MORALS. 

the Most High, the Most Good spontaneously ; they will bless Him for 
all His bounties. They will not be content to love Him merely, they 
will proclaim this love to all the nations of the world ; they will wish 
to correct and admonish their brethren when they see them tempted 
through pride and low passions to forsake the Well-Beloved. They 
will lament the least cooling of that love. They will cross the seas, go 
to the uttermost parts of the earth, to teach the benighted nations who 
have forgotten His greatness the knowledge and love of their common 
Father. What do you call external worship if this be not it ? God 
then would be all in all ; He would be the universal king, father, 
friend ; He would be the living law of all hearts. Truly, if a mortal 
king or head of a family wins by his wisdom the esteem and confidence 
of his children, if we see them at all times pay him the honors due 
him, need we ask wherein consists his service, or whether any is due 
him ? All that is done in his honor, in obedience to him, in recogni- 
tion of his bounties, is a continuous worship, obvious to all eyes. 
What would it be then if men were possessed with the love of God ! 
Their society would be in a state of continuous worship, like that de- 
scribed to us of the blessed in heaven." * 

The great ancient moralist, Epictetus, has as superbly as 
Fenelon expressed the same sentiments : 

"If we had any understanding," he says, "ought Ave not, both in 
public and in private, incessantly to sing and praise the Deity, and re- 
hearse His benefits ? Ought we not, whether we dig, or plough, or eat, 
to sing this hymn to God ? Great is God, who has supplied us with 
these instruments to till the ground ; great is God, who has given us 
hands and organs of digestion ; who has given us to grow insensibly, to 
breathe in sleep. These things we ought forever to celebrate, and to 
make it the theme of the greatest and divinest hymn that He has given 
us the power to appreciate these gifts, and to use them well. But be- 
cause the most of you are blind and insensible there .must be some 
one to fill this station, and lead in behalf of all men the hymn to 
God ; for what else can I do, a lame old man, but sing hymns to 
God ? Were I a nightingale, I would act the part of a nightingale ; 
were I a swan, the part of a swan. But since I am a reasonable 
creature it is my duty to praise God. This is my business. I do 
it. Nor will I ever desert this post, so .long as it is permitted me ; 
and I call on you to join in the same song." f 

* F6n61on. Lettrcs sur la mitaphysique et la religion. Letter II., ch. i. 
t The works of Epictetus. T. W. Higginson's transl., I., xvi. 



n 



CHAPTER XYL 

MORAL MEDICINE AKD GYMI^^ASTICS. 



SUMMARY. 

Means and end. — Moral science should not only point out the end ; 
it should also indicate the means of attaining that end. 

There is, as of the body, a culture of the soul : as, in medicine, we 
distinguish between tenipermnenis, diseases and their treatments, so do 
we distinguish in morals, chai'octers, passions, and remedies. 
Of character. — Character as compared with temperament : four prin- 
cipal types. 

Character at different ages : childhood, youth, manhood, and old age. 
Passions. — Passions may in one respect be considered as natural affec- 
tions; but in a moral point of view they should be considered as 
diseases. 

The law of passions considered from this last standpoint Enumer- 
ation and analysis of these various passions. 
Culture of the soul, or moral treatment. — On the government of 
passions. — Bossuet's advice : not directly to combat the passions, but 
to turn them off into other channels. 

Of the formation of character. —Rules of Mai ebranche : 1, acts 
produce habits, and habits produce acts ; 2, one can always act against 
a ruling habit. 

How is one habit to be substituted for another ? — Aristotle's rule : 
To go from one extreme to the other. — Bacon's rules : 1, to proceed 
by degrees ; 2, to choose for a new virtue two kinds of opportunities : 
the first when one is best disposed, the second when one is least so ; 
3, not to trust too much to one's conversion and distrust opportuni- 
ties. 

Benjamin Franklin's Almanac. — Other practices. — Kant's moral 
catechism. 

We have done with practical morals, the morals, namely, 
which have for their object the setting forth of man's duties and 



olG ELEMEIfTS OF MORALS. 

the principal applications of the moral law. Tlie second part of 
this course of study shall be devoted to the tlipjyry of morals, 
which has for its object the elucidation of principles. But to 
pass from the one to the other, it seemed to us j>roper, by way 
of conclusion, to introduce here an «.>rder of researches which 
belongs to both practical and theoretical morals, the study, 
namely, of the means man has at his disposal in liis moral 
self-perfection, either by curing himself of vice, or in advanc- 
ing in virtue : this is what we call moral medicine and gym- 
nastics. 

Bacon justly remarks that most moralists are like writing- 
masters who lay fine copies before their pupils, but tell them 
nothing of the manner of using the pen and tracing charac- 
ters. Thus do the philosophers set before us very fine and 
magnificent models, very faithful and noble pictures of good- 
ness and virtue, of duties, of happiness ; but they teach us 
nothing about the means of attaining to such perfection. 
They make us acquainted with t>ie erid, and not with the road 
that leads to it.* 

Then, presenting us himself a sketch of that portion of mo- 
rality which does not confine itself to precepts only, but to 
instructions also, and which he calls the Georgics of the foul 
(science of the culture and the soul), he tells us that it should 
be like medicine w^hich considers first the constitution of tlie 
patient, then the disease, then the treatment. Tlie same in 
regard to the soul : there are moral temperaments as there are 
physical temperaments : these are the characters; moral dis- 
eases as there are physical diseases ; these are the ])assions ; 
and finally there is a moral treatment as there is a physical 
treatment, and it is the treatment of morality to indicate this 
treatment. Now, one cannot treat a disease without knowing 
it and without being ac(|uainted with the temperament and 
constitution of the patient. " A coat cannot be litted on 
a body without the tailor's taking first the measure of him for 
wliom he makes it." Hence, it follows tliat before deciding 

* Dc Aug'nvc'n.lii^ Zcicniiaruvii^ III., i. andiii. 



MORAL MEDiril^E AXD GTMXASTICS. 317 

on a remedy, one must acquaint himself with the characters 
and passions. 

173. Of character. — The study of character is liardly sus- 
ceptible of a methodical classification. Passions, manners, 
habits are so complicated and so intermixed in individuals that 
they afford scarcely a chance to faithfully describe them, and 
this subject, though very fertile, is more of the province of 
literature than of science. Theophrastus among the ancients, 
and La Bruyere among the moderns, have excelled in this 
kind of description ; hut it would be very difficult to analyze 
their works, as they have nothing didactic : they are better 
suited for reading. Theophrastus describes dissemblers, flat- 
terers, intruders, rustics, parasites, babblers, the superstitious, 
misers, the proud, slanderers, etc. All these are unquestion- 
ably principal types of human character, but they cannot be 
strictly brought down to a few eh^mentary types. La Bruyere 
is still further removed ; he does not only treat character, but 
manners also ; he describes individuals rather than men in 
general, or it is always in the individual that he sees the man. 
Hence the charm and piquancy of his pictures ; but moral sci- 
ence finds scarcely anything to borrow from him. 

Kant tried to give a theory of character, and he started 
with the same idea as Bacon, namely, the analogy between 
characters and temperaments; thus did he confine himself to 
taking up again the old physiological theory of temperaments 
and apply it to the moral man. He distinguishes two kinds 
of temperaments : temperaments of sentiment, and tempera- 
ments of adivitij ; and in each of these two kinds, two 
degrees or two different shades : exaltation or abatement. 
Hence, four different kinds of temperaments : the sanguine 
and tlie melancholy (temperament of sentiment), the choleric 
and phlegmatic (temperament of activity). Kant describes 
these four temperaments or characters as follows :* 

" The sanguine disposition may be recognized by the fol- 
lowing indications : The sanguine man is free from care and 

* Kant, Anthropologic, Trad, frauc. de Tissot, p. 27. 



318 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

of good hope ; he gives to things at one moment undue im- 
portance ; at another, he can no longer think of them. He is 
splendid in his promises, but does not keep them, because he 
has not sufficiently reflected whether he will be able to keep 
them or not. He is well enough disposed to help others, but is 
a poor debtor and always asks for delays. He is good company, 
cheerful, lively, takes things easily, and is everybody's friend. 
He is not usually a bad person, but a confirmed sinner, hard 
to convert, and who, though he will repent, will never allow 
this repentance to turn into grief : it is soon again forgotten. 
He is easily tired by work ; yet is he constantly occupied, 
and that, for the reason that his work being but play, it 
proves a change which suits him, as perseverance is not in his 
nature. 

"The melancholy man gives to everything concerning him a 
vast importance ; the least trifles give him anxiety, and his 
whole attention is fixed upon the difficulties of things. Con- 
trary to the sanguine, always hopeful of success, but a super- 
ficial thinker, the melancholy is a profound thinker. He 
is not hasty in his promises because he intends keeping 
them, and he considers carefully whether he will be able to 
do so. He distrusts and takes thought of things which the 
sanguine passes carelessly by ; he is no philanthropist, for the 
reason that he who denies himself pleasure is rarely inclined 
to wish it to others. 

"The choleric man is easily excited and as easily a])peased ; 
he flares up like a straw fire ; but sulmiission soon softens him 
down; he is then irritable without hatred, and loves him who 
readily gives up to him, all the more ardently. He is prompt 
in his actions, but his activity does not last long ; he is never 
idle, yet not industrious. His ruling passion is honors ; he 
likes to meddle with public affairs, to hear himself praised ; 
lie is for show and ceremonial. He is fond of playing the 
part of a protector and to appear generous ; but not from a feel- 
ing of afl'ection, but of pride, for he loves himself much more 
than he loves others. He is passionately given to money 



MORAL AlEDICIXE AXD GYMNASTICS. 319 

making ; in society he is a ceremonious courtier, stiff, and ill 
at ease, and ready to accept any flatterer to serve liim as a 
shield : in a word, the choleric teinpemment is the least happy 
of all because it is the one that meets with most opposition. 

" The phlennudic temper. Plilegm means absence of emo- 
tion. The phlegmatic man to whom nature has given a cer- 
tain i]^uantum of reason, resembles the man who acts on prin- 
ciple, although he owes this disposition to instinct only. His 
happy temperament stands to him in lieu of wisdom, and 
often in ordinary life he is called a philosopher. Sometimes 
even he is thought cunning, because all abuse launched at 
him bounces back again, as a ball from a sack of wool. He 
makes a pretty good husband, and, whilst pretenchng to do 
every one's will, he governs both wife and servauts as he 
likes, for he knows how to bring their wishes in agreement 
with his own indomitable but thoughtful will."' 

There are then, according to Kant, four essentially distinct 
characters : the sanguine, pla^-ful, kindly, superhcial; the mel- 
anclwly, profound, sad, egotistical ; the choleric, ardent, pas- 
sionate, ambitious, covetous; the phlegmatic, cold, moderate, 
inflexible. 

Kant denies that these four kinds of temperaments can 
combine with each other ; " there are but four in all,'' he 
says, " and each of them is complete in itself." It seems to 
us, on the contrary, that experience shows that no one of these 
characters exists separately in an absolute manner ; there is 
always to some degree a mixture, and different men are gener- 
ally distinguished by the leading feature in their character. 

AVe must, however, make a distinction between dis2M){>ition 
and character. To be of such or such a disposition is not 
always being a man of character. The first of these two ex- 
pressions signifies the various aptitudes, inclinations, or habits 
which distinguish a man from others ; the second signifies 
that strength of will, that empire over himself which enables 
a man to follow faithfully the line of conduct he has chosen, 
and to bravely resist temptations. Character is not always 



320 ELEMEKTS OF MORALS. 

virtue (for it may be controlled by false and vicious princi- 
ples), but it is its condition. 

" That tendency of the will which acts according to fixed 
principles (and does not move from this to that, like a fly) is 
something truly estimable, and which deserves all the more 
admiration as it is extremely rare. The question here is not 
of what nature makes of man, but of what man makes of him- 
self. Talent has a venal value which allows making use of 
the man therewith endowed ; temperament has an affection- 
value which makes of him an agreeable companion and pleas- 
ant talker ; but character has a value which places him above 
all these things." * 

174. Age. — To this classification of characters according to 
temperaments, may be added that founded on age. In fact, 
different ages have, as it is well known, very different char- 
acteristics, Aristotle f was the first to describe the differences 
in men's morals according to their ages, and he has since 
been very often imitated. 

" I. T]ie young. — The young are in their dispositions prone 
to desire, and of a character to effect what they desire. And 
they desire with earnestness, but speedily cease to desire ; 
for their wishes are keen, without being durable ; just like 
the hunger and thirst of the sick. And they are passionate 
and irritable, and of a temperament to follow the impulse. 
And they cannot overcome their anger ; for by reason of their 
ambition, they do not endure a slight, but become indignant, 
and fancy themselves injured ; and they are ambitious indeed 
of honor, but more so of victory ; for youth is desirous of su- 
periority, and victory is a sort of superiority. And they are 
credulous, from their never having yet been much imposed 
on. And they arc sanguine in their expectations ; for, like 
those who are atfected by wine, so the young are warmed by 
their nature ; and at the same tinie from their having never 

* Kant gives ingenious examples of these three degrees of action. See his An- 
thropologische charakterist ik. 

t Aristotle's Rhetoric, book II., ch. xii., xiii., xiv., Bohn's translation. 



MORAL MEDICIXr AXD GTMXASTICS. ?i21 

yet met Tvitli many repulses. Their life too, for the most 
part, is one of hope ; for hope is of that wliich is yet to be, 
while memory is of that which is passed : but to the young, 
that which is yet to be is long ; but that which has passed is 
short And they are brave rather to an excess ; for they are 
irritable and sanguine, qualities, the one whereof cancels fear, 
and the other inspires courage ; for while no one who is af- 
fected by anger ever is afraid, the being in hope of some good 
is a thing to give courage. And they are bashful ; for they 
do not as yet conceive the honorable to b? anything distinct • 
and they are high-minded ; for they have not as yet been 
humbled by the course of life, but are inex}}erienced in per- 
emptory circumstances ; again, high-mindetlness is the deemiug 
one's self worthy of much ; and this belongs to persons of san- 
guine expectations. And they prefer succeeding in an honor- 
able sense rather than in points of expediency ; for they live 
more in conformity to moral feeling than to mere calculations ; 
and calculation is of the expedient, moral excellence, however, 
of that which is honorable. Again, they are fond of friends 
and companions, by reason of their delighting in social inter- 
course. And all their errors are on the side of excess ; for 
their friendships are in excess, their hati-eds are in excess, 
and they do everything else with the same degree of earnest- 
ness ; they think also that they know everything, and hrml}^ 
asseverate that they do ; for this is the cause of their pushing 
everything to an excess. They are likewise prone to pity ; 
and they are also fond of mirth, on which account they are 
also of a facetious turn." 

" II. The old. — Those who are advanced in life are of dis- 
positions in most points the very opposite of those of the 
young. Since by reason of their having lived many years, 
and having been deceived in the greater number of instances, 
and having come to the conclusion, too, that the majority 
of human affairs are but worthless, they do not positively 
asseverate anything, and err in everything more on the side 
of defect than they ought. And they ahvays ' t^iippose ' but 



322 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

never * know ' certainly ; and questioning everything, they 
always subjoin a ^ perliajps^ or a '■ jjossihly.^ Moreover, they 
are apt to be suspicious from distrust, and they are distrustful 
from their experience. And they are pusillanimous from their 
having been humbled by the course of life ; for they raise 
their desires to nothing great or vast, but to things only 
which conduce to support of life. And they are timid and 
apprehensive of everything ; for their disposition is the reverse 
of that of the young ; for they have been chilled by years ; 
and yet they are attached to life, and particularly at its closing 
day. [They are apt to despond.] And they live more in 
memory than in hope ; for the remnant of life is brief, and 
what has passed is considerable. And their desires have, 
some, abandoned them, the others are faint. They are neither 
facetious nor fond of mirth. 

" III. Mature age. — Those who are in their prime will, it is 
evident, be in a mean in point of disposition between the 
young and the old, subtracting the excesses of each : being 
neither rash in too great a degree, nor too much given to fear, 
but keeping themselves right in respect to both. And they 
are of a tempering coolness joined with spirit, and are spirited 
not without temperate coolness. And thus, in a word, what- 
ever advantages youth and age have divided between them, 
the middle age possesses both." 

We must admit that Aristotle, who has so admirably de- 
])icted young and old men, is weak on the subject of man- 
liood. Boileau, translating Horace, makes of it a far more 
clear and exact picture : 

" Manhood, more ripe, puts on a wiser look, succeeds with 
those in power, intrigues, and spares itself, thinks of hold- 
ing its own against the blows of fate, and far on in the now 
looks forth to the to be." 

175. Passions. — Character, considered from a strictly 
philosophical standpoint, is nothing more than the various 
combinations which the i)assions, wliether natural or ac- 
<[uired, which exist in man, form in each individual, so that 



MORAL MEDICINE AXD GYMNASTICS. 323 

there is, in some respect, double reason for treating these two 
subjects separately. But, in the first place, the divers move- 
ments of the soul take, by usage, the name of passions, only 
when they reach a certain degree of acuteness, and, as Bacon 
puts it, of disease. In the second, passions are the elements 
which in divers quantities and proportions compose what is 
termed character ; it is from this double point of view that 
we must speak of them separately. 

If we consider the passions from a psychological* stand- 
point, we shall find that they are nothing more than the 
natural inclinations of the human heart. 

We have to consider them here especially from a patholog- 
ical point of view (if it may be permitted to say so), that is, 
as diseases of the human heart. 

The character of passions regarded as diseases, is the fol- 
lowing : 

1. They are exclusive. A man who has become enslaved 
by a passion, will know nothing else, will listen to nothing 
else ; he will sacrifice to that passion not only his reason 
and his duty, but his other inclinations, and even his other 
passions also. The passion of gambling or of drinking Avill 
stifle all the rest, ambition, love, even the instinct of self- 
preservation. 

2. Passion, as a disease, is in a violent condition ; it is im- 
petuous, disordered, very like insanity. 

3. Although there may be fits of passion, sudden and fleet- 
ing, which rise and fall again in the same instant, we generally 
give the name of passions only to movements which have be- 
come habitual. Passions then are habits ; applied to things 
base, they become vices. 

4. There is a diagnosis! of passions as there is of diseases. 
They betray themselves outwardly by external signs which 
are their symptoms (acts, gestures, pliysiognomy), and in- 

* Psychology is the science which treats of the faculties and operations of the 
soul. 

t Diagnosis in medicine is the art of determining a disease by means of t!ie sjinp- 
toms or signs it presents. 



324 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

wardly, by first indications or what was formerly called 2^rod- 
TOw.es, which are their forerunners (disturbance, agitation, etc. ). 

5. Passion, like disease, has its history : it has its regular 
course, its crisis, and termination. The Imitation of Jesus 
Christ gives in a few words the history of a passion : " In the 
beginning a simple thought presents itself to the mind ; this 
is followed by a vivid fancy ; then conies delectation, a bad 
impulse, and finally the consent. Thus does the evil one 
gradually enter the soul." ^' 

6. It is rare that a passion arises and develops without ob- 
stacles and resistance. Hence that state we have called 
fluctuation (Vol. I., p. 167), and which has so often been com- 
pared to the ebb and flow of the sea. 

These general features of the passions being stated, let us 
make a brief sketch of the principal passions. 

It may be said that our passions pass through three distinct 
states ; they are at hrst natural and unavoidable affections 
of the mind : inclinations, tendencies ; they become next vio- 
lent and unruly movements : these are the passions properly 
so-called ; they become habits and embodied in the character, 
and take the name of qualities and defects, virtues and vices. 
But it is to be noted that whilst we can always distinguish 
these three states theoretically, language is, for the most part, 
inadequate to express them ; for men have designated these 
moral states only according to the necessities of practice, and 
not according to the rules of theory. 

The three states which we have just pointed out, can be 
very clearly distinguished in the first of the affections of 
human nature, namely, the instinct of self-preservation. This 
instinct is at first a natural, legitimate, necessary affection of 
tlie human heart ; but by the force of circumstances, tlie in- 
fluence of age, disease, temperament, it develops out of propor- 
tion into a state of passion, and becomes what we caWfear; 
ov else it turns into a habit and becomes the vice we call 
cowardice. 

* Iinitation of Jesus Christ, L, xii. 



MORAL MEDICINE AND GYMNASTICS. 325 

Physical self-preservation is inseparable from two appetites 
called hunger and thirst. These two appetites, too much in- 
dulged in, become passions, which themselves may become 
vices. But language fails here to express their various shades : 
there is only one word to express the passion or vice related 
to eating and drinking : it is on the one hand gluttony, and on 
the other drunkenness ; * both these vices, and in general all 
undue surrender to sensual pleasures, is called intemperance. 

The source of all our personal inclinations is the love for 
ourselves or self-love, a legitimate instinct when kept within 
bounds; but when carried to excess, when exclusive and pre- 
dominant, it becomes the vice we call selfishness. 

Self-esteem, developed into a passion, becomes, when it 
turns upon great things, false pride; when upon small, vanity. 

The love of liberty degenerates into a spirit of revolt ; the 
legitimate love of power, into ambition ; the instiyid of "property 
becomes greed, cupidity, passion for gain, and tends to run 
into the passion for gambling or the desire to gain by means 
of chance. The desire for gain engenders the fear of loss, and 
this latter passion developing into a vice and mania, becomes 
avarice. 

Human inclinations are divided into benevolent and mcdevo- 
lent inclinations. The first may develop into a passion, but 
not into a vice ; the second alone become vices. 

There is not a single benevolent inclination which, carried 
too far and beyond reason, may not become a more or less 
blameworthy passion. But, in the first place, we have no 
terms in our language to express the exaggerations of these 
kinds of passions,! and in the second, though they be exag- 
gerations, we shall never call the tenderer affections of the 
human heart, however foolish they may be, vices, if they are 
sincere. 

*'We should, however, make a distinction between the passion for wino and 
drunkenness. One can have this passion without giving up to it. Drunkenness is 
the habit of yiehling to it. 

t Sentimentality is false sensibility, and not exaggerated sensibility. Softness is 
a vague expression. Patriotism may by exaggeration become fanaticism ; but this 
is equally true of other sentiments— of the religious sentiment, for example. 



326 ELEMEN'TS OF MORALS. 

Yet, may some of these affections become vices when they 
unite with personal passion. For example, good nature or 
the desire to please may lead to ohseqidous sei^vility, the desire 
to praise, to fiattery, and esteem, to hypocrisy. But these vices 
partake more of the nature of self-love than of benevolent in- 
clinations. ^ 

Malevolent passions. — Malevolent inclinations give rise to 
the most terrible passions. But are there, indeed, in man 
naturally malevolent inclinations? Reid, the philosopher, 
disputes it and justly thinks, as we do, that malevolent pas- 
sions are but the abuse of certain personal inclinations in- 
tended to serve as auxiliaries in the development of our activity. 
There are two principal malevolent passions, emulation and 
anger. 

Emulation is but a special desire for success and superiority. 
This desire, induced by the thought that other men around 
us have attained to such or such degree of public esteem or 
power, is not in itself a malevolent inclination. We may 
wish to equal and surpass others without, at the same time, 
wishing them any harm. We can experience pleasure in ex- 
celling them, without exactly rejoicing in their defeat ; we 
can bear being excelled by them without begrudging them 
their success. 

Emulation then is a personal but not a malevolent senti- 
ment ; it becomes malevolent and vicious when our feelings 
toward others become inverted : w'hen, for example, we regret, 
not the check we have been made to suffer, but the advan- 
tage our rivals have gained over us, and when we are unable 
to bear the idea of the good fortune of others; or again when, 
conversely, we experience more pleasure at their defeat than 
joy at our own victory. This sentiment, thus perverted, be- 
comes what is called envy : and envy is generally the pain we 
feel at the good fortune of others ; it is then a sentiment im- 
plying tlie wish to see others unhappy ; and is therefore an 
actual vice, as low as it is odiou.s. 

Envy wliich has some analogy with jealousy must be dis- 



MORAL MEDICINE A^D GYMlfASTICS. 327 

tingiiished from the latter. Jealousy is a kind of envy which 
bears especially upon affections it is not allowed to share ; 
envy, upon material goods, or goods in the abstract (fortune, 
honors, power). The envious man wants goods he does not 
possess ; the jealous man refuses to share those which he has. 
Jealousy is then a sort of sellishness, not as base as envy, since 
higher goods are in question, but which for its consequences 
is nevertheless one of the most terrible of passions. 

Anger is a natural passion, which seems to have been be- 
stowed on us to furnish us an arm against peril; it is an effort 
the soul makes to resist an evil it stands in danger of. But 
this inclination is one of those which cause us the quickest to 
lose our self-possession, and throws us into a sort of moment- 
ary insanity. Yet, although it is a passion of which the con- 
sequences may be fatal, it is not necessarily accompanied by 
hatred (as may be seen by the soldier who will fight furiously 
and who, immediately after the battle or during a truce, will 
shake hands with his enemy). Anger then is an effort of nat- 
ure in the act of self-defense; it is a fever, and as such it is 
a fatal and culpable passion, but it is not a vice. 

Anger becomes hatred when, thinking of the harm we have 
done or could do to our enemy, we rejoice over the thought of 
this harm ; it is called resentment or rancor when it is the 
spiteful recollection of an injury received ; finally, it becomes 
ihQ passion of vengeance (the most criminal of all) when it 
is the desire and hope to return evil for evil. Pleasure at the 
misfortune of others, when it reaches a certain refinement, 
even though free from hatred, becomes cruelty. 

Hatred changes into contem'pt when there is joined to it 
the idea of the baseness and inferiority of the person who is 
hated. Contempt is a legitimate sentiment when it has 
for its object base and culpable actions ; it is a bad and 
blameworthy passion when it bears u]wn a pretended inferior- 
ity, either of birth, or fortune, or talent, and then belongs to 
false pride. False pride, however, is not always accompanied 
by contempt. We see men full of self-satisfaction, who yet 



328 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 

know liow to be polite and courteous toward those they regard 
their inferiors ; others, on the contrary, who look down upon 
their inferiors and treat them like brutes. Contempt, with 
such, is added to false pride. A gentler form of contempt is 
disdain, a sort of delicate and covered contempt. Contempt 
when it appHes itself to set off, not the vices, but the peculi- 
arities of men, trying to make them appear ridiculous, be- 
comes raillery or irony. 

Such are the principal affections of the soul viewed as 
diseases, that is to say, inasmuch as they have need of rem- 
edies. 

Let us now, to continue Bacon's comparison, pass to their 
treatment. 

176. Culture of the soul. — After having studied charac- 
ters and passions, we have to ask ourselves by what means 
passions may be governed and characters modified or cor- 
rected. 

177. Bossuet's rule. — As to the first point, namely, the 
government of the passions, Bossuet gives us in his Connais- 
sance de Diea et de soi-meme, * excellent practical advice : it 
is obviously based on his study of consciences. 

He justly observes that we cannot directly control our pas- 
sions : " We cannot," he says, '* start or appease our anger as 
we can move an arm or keep it still." But, on tlie other hand, 
the power we exercise over our external members gives us also 
a very great one over our passions. It is, of course, but an in- 
direct power, but it is no less efficacious : " Thus can I put 
away from me a disagreeable and irritating object, and when my 
anger is excited,! can refuse it the arm it needs to satisfy itself." 

To do this it is necessary to will it; but there is notliing so 
difficult as to will when the soul is possessed by a passion. 
The ([uestion is then to know how one may escape a ruling 
l)assion. To succeed in it one should not attack it in front, 
l)ut as much as possible turn the mind upon other objects : it 
is witli passion " as with a river which is more easily turned 

» Chap. III., 10. 



MOllAL MEDICINE AND GYMNASTICS. 320 

off from its course than stopped short." A passion is often 
conquered by means of another passion, " as in a State," says 
Bacon, " where a prince restrains one faction by means of 
another." Bossuet says even that it may be well, in order to 
avoid criminal passions, to abandon one's self to innocent 
ones.* One should also be careful in the choice of the 
persons he associates with : " for nothing more arouses the 
passions than the talk and actions of passionate men ; whilst 
a quiet mind, provided its repose be not feelingless and in- 
sipid, seems, on the contrary, to communicate to us its own 
peace. We need something lively that may accord with our 
own feelings. 

In a word, to conclude with Bossuet, " we should try to 
calm excited minds by diverting them from the main object 
of their excitement ; approach them obliquely rather than 
directly in front ; that is to say, that when a passion is already 
excited, there is no time then to attack it by reasoning, for 
one drives it all the stronger in. Where wise reflections are 
of greatest effect is in the forestalling of passions. One should 
therefore fill his mind with sensible thoughts, and accustom it 
early to proper inclinations, so that there be no room for the 
objects of passions." 

178. Imppovement of charactep. — Bossuet has just in- 
formed us how we are to conduct ourselves in regard to the 
passions, as diseases of the soul. Let us now see how char- 
acter, namely, temperament, may be modified. 

* Plato in the Phsedo (trad, de Saisset, p. 31) seems to condemn the idea of com- 
bating passion by passion : " To exchange one sensual pleasure for another," he says, 
''one grief for another, one fear for another, and to do like those who get small 
change for a piece of money, is not the path which leads to virtue. Wisdom is the 
only true coin against whicli all the others should be exchanged. . . . Without wis- 
dom all other virtues are but shadows of virtues, a virtue the slave of vice, wherein 
there is nothing wholesome nor true. True virtue is free from all passion." 
Nothing more true and more noble ; but there is in this doctrine nothing coutrary 
to that of Bossuet. The question is not to exchange one passion for another, for su(;h 
an act is devoid of all moral character, but to exchange passion against wisdom 
and virtue ; and all we want to know is thcmeans. Now experieiu-e confirms what 
Bossuet has said, namely, that one cannot immediately triumph over a passion, 
especially when at its zenith, and that it is necessary to turn one's thoughts n]nm 
other objects and appeal to more inno(rcnt passio'is or to passions, if not less ai-ucrit, 
at least more noble, such as patriotism or the religious scntimcut. 



330 ELEMEN-TS OF MORALS. 



1 



The character is a collection of habits, a great part of which 
belong, imquestionably, to our natm-al inclinations, but which, 
nevertheless, are also largely formed under the influence of 
education, circumstances, indulgence of passions, etc. It is 
thus character, " this second nature," as it has often been 
called, gradually develops. 

Character being, as we have seen above, a habit, and virtue, 
on the other hand, being also a habit, the problem which 
presents itself to him who wishes to improve his character and 
exchange his vices for virtues, is to know how one habit may 
be substituted for another, and how even a painful habit may 
be substituted for an agreeable habit, sometimes for a habit 
which has lost its charm, but not yet its empire over one. 

This problem may be found analyzed and most pathetically 
described in the Confessions of St. Augustine : 

*' I was," he tells us, " like those who wish to get awake, but who, 
overcome by sleep, fall back into slumber. There is certainly no one 
who would wish to sleep always, and who would not rather, if he is 
healthy of miml, prefer the waking to the sleeping state ; and yet there 
is nothing more difficult than to shake off the languor which weighs 
our limbs down ; and often, though the hour for waking has come, we 
are against our will maile captives by the sweetness of sleep. . . I was 
held back by the frivolous pleasures and foolish vanities which I had 
found in the company of my former friends : they hung on the ventures 
of my flesh, whispering, ' Art tliou going to abandon us ? ' . . . If, on 
the one hand, virtue attracted and persuaded me, pleasure on the other 
captivated and enslaved me. . . I liad no other answer for the former, 
than : ' Presently, presently, wait a little.' But this ' presently' had 
no end and this ' Avait a little ' was indefinitely prolonged, Wretch 
that I am ! who will deliver me from the body of this death ? " * 

At SO painful a juncture, the Christian religion offers its 
children an all-powerful and efficacious remedy : this is what 
it calls grace. But of this means moral j^hilosophy cannot 
dispose ; all it can do is to find in the study of human nature 
the exclusively natural means God has endowed it with, to 
elevate man to virtue. Now, these means, limited though 

* Covjcsaions, VIII., v. 



MOEAL MEDICi:J>rE AND GYMNASTICS. 331 

they be, should not be considered inefficient, since for 
many centuries they sufficed the greatest men and sages of 
antiquity.* 

179. Rules of Malebranche and Aristotle.— We may take 
for a starting point this maxim of Malebranche, which he bor- 
rowed from Aristotle : Acts prod tLce habits, and habits prod ace 
acts.-\ A habit, in fact, is induced by a certain number of 
often repeated actions ; and once generated, it produces in its 
turn acts, so to say, spontaneous and without any effort of the 
will. Thence spring vices and virtues ; and the problem is to 
know how the first may be corrected, and the second retained : 
for the question is not only to pass from evil to good, but we 
should also take care not to slide from good into evil. 

If the first maxim of Malebranche were absolute, it woidd 
follow that the soul could not change its habits, nor the bad 
man improve, nor the good become corrupt ; it would follow 
that hope would be interdicted to the one, and that the other 
would have nothing more to fear; consequences which experi- 
ence shows to be entirely false. Some fanatical sects may 
have believed that virtue or holiness once attained could 
never again be lost, J and this belief served as a shield to the 
most shameful disorders. Facts, on the contrary, teach us 
that there is no virtue so infallible as to be secure against a 
fall, and no vice ever so deeply rooted that may not be less- 

* The virtues of the pagans have been often depreciated, and St. Augustine himself, 
great an admirer as he was of antiquity, called them, nevertheless, splendid vices 
(vitia splendida). They are often regarded as induced by pride rather than by a 
sincere love of virtue. We should beware of such interpretations, for once on the 
road of moral pessimism, there is no reason for stopping at anything. We may as 
well maintain that there are a thousand forms of pride, and that self-love often sets 
its glory in pretending to overcome itself. " We must therefore not wotider to find 
it coupled with the gi-eatest austerity, and, in order to destroy itself, make us 
bravely a companion of it, for whilst it ruins itself in one place, it starts up again in 
jinother." It may be seen by this passage, of La Rochefoucauld, that it is of no use 
to interpret the pagan virtues in a bad sense, for tlie argument can be retorted. It is 
better to regard virtue as sincere and true wherever we meet with it, so long as 
there are no proofs to the contrary. 

t Traite de morale, III., 2. 

I The theory of inadmissible sanctity consisted in maintaining that man, having 
reached a state of sanctity, could never again, whatever he might do, fall from it. 



332 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 

ened or destroj^ed. In fact, and this is Malebranche's second 
maxim : One can always act agaiyist a ruling liahit. If one 
can act contrary to a positive habit, such acts often repeated 
may, according to the first maxim, produce, by the effort of 
the will, a new habit which w^iU take the place of the preced- 
ing one. One can thus either corrupt or correct one's self. 
Only, as the virtuous habits are the more painful to acquire, 
and the vicious habits the more agreeable, it will always be 
more easy to pass from good to evil than from evil to good. 

How shall we proceed to substitute a ^ood habit for a bad 
one ? Aristotle says that when we have a defect to get rid of, 
■we should throw ourselves into the opposite extreme, so 
that after having removed ourselves with all our might from 
the dreaded fault we may in some respects, and through 
natural elasticity, return to the just medium indicated by 
reason, just as a bent wand straightens itself again when let 
go. This maxim may do in certain cases and with certain 
characters, but it would have to be applied cautiously. One 
may, under the influence of enthusiasm, throw himself into a 
violent extreme, and remain there for some time ; but at the 
moment of reaction it is not impossible that, instead of stop- 
ping at the desired medium, he may fall back into the first 
extreme again. 

180. Rules of Bacon and Leibnitz. — Bacon,* who did 
not find Aristotle's maxim suflicient, tries to complete it by a 
few additional ones : 

1. One should beware of beginning with too difficult tasks, 
and should proportion them to his strength — in a ^yoy(\., proceed 
hy degrees. For example, he who wishes to correct himself 
of his laziness, should not at once im]:>ose too great a work 
ii[)on himself, but he should every day v/urk a little longer 
than the day before, until the habit is formed. 

In order to render these exercises less painful, it is })er- 
raittcd to employ some auxiliary means, like some one learn- 

* The Dignity of Sciences, VII., iii. 



MOEAL MEDICINE AND GYMNASTICS. 333 

ing to swim will use bladders or willow supports. After a 
little while the difficulties will be purposely increased, like 
dancers who, to acquire agility, practice at first with very 
heavy shoes. 

" There is to be observed," adds Bacon, " that there are 
certain vices (and drunkenness is one of them) where it is 
dangerous to proceed by degrees only, and where it is better 
to cut short at once and in an absolute manner. 

2. The second maxim, where the question is of acquiring a 
new virtue, is to choose for it two different opportunities : 
the first when one feels best disposed toward the kind of 
actions he may have in view ; the second, when as ill disposed 
as possible, so as to take advantage of the first opportunity to 
make considerable headway, and of the second, to exercise the 
energy of the will. This second rule is an excellent one, and 
truly efficacious. 

3. A third rule is, when one has conquered, or thinks he 
has conquered, his temperament, not to trust it too much. 
It were well to remember here the old maxim : " Drive away 
temperament,''' etc., and remember ^Esop's cat, which, meta- 
morphosed into a woman, behaved very well at table until 
it espied a mouse. 

Leibnitz also gives us some good advice as to practical 
prudence, to teach us to triumph over ourselves, and ex- 
pounds in his own way the same ideas as Bossuet and 
Bacon : 

" Wlien a man is in a good state of mind he should lay 
down for himself laws and rules for the future, and strictly 
adhere to them ; he should, according to the nature of the 
thing, either suddenly or gradually turn his back upon all 
occasions liable to degrade him. A journey undertaken on 
purpose by a lover will cure him of his love ; a sudden 
retreat will relieve us of bad company. Francis Borgia, 
general of the Jesuits, who was finally canonized, being 
accustomed to drink freely whilst yet a man of the world, 
when he began to withdraw from it gradually reduced his 



334 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

allowance to the smallest amount by dropping every day a 
piece of wax into the bowl he was in the habit of empty- 
ing. To dangerous likings one must oppose more innocent 
likings, such as agriculture, gardening, etc. ; one must shun 
idleness ; make collections of natural history or art objects ; 
engage in scientific experiments and investigations ; one must 
make himself some indispensable occupation, or, in default of 
such, engage in useful or agreeable conversation or reading. 
In a word, one should take advantage of all good impukes 
toward forming strong resolutions, as if they were the voice 
of God calling us.* 

181. Franklin's Almanac. — To these maxims concerning 
the formation and perfecting of character, may fittingly be 
added the moral method which Benjamin Franklin adopted 
for his own improvement in virtue. He had made a list of 
the qualities which he wished to acquire and develop within 
himself, and had reduced them to thirteen principal ones. 
This classification, which has no scientific value, appeared to 
him entirely sufhcient for the end he had in view. These 
thirteen virtues are the following : temperance, silence, order, 
resolution, frugality, industry, sincerity, justice, moderation, 
cleanliness, tranquillity, chastity, humility. 

This catalogue, once drawn up, Franklin, reflecting that it 
would be difficult to fight at the same time tliirteen defects 
and keep his mind on thirteen virtues, had an idea similar to 
that of Horatius in his combat with the Curiatii : he resolved 
to fight his enemies one by one ; he applied to morality the 
well-known principle of politicians : " Divide if thou wilt 
ride:' 

" I made a little book," he says, " in which I allotted a page 
for each of the virtues. I ruled each page with red ink, so 
as to have seven columns, one for each day of the week, mark- 
ing each column with a letter for the day. T crossed these 
columns with thirteen red lines, marking the beginning of 
each line with the first letter of one of the virtues ; on which 

♦ Essays on the Human Understanding, II., xxi. 



MORAL MEDICIXE AND GYMKASTICS. 335 

line, and in its proper column, I might mark, by a little black 
spot, every fault I found upon examination to have been 
committed respecting that virtue upon that day. 

" I determined to give a week's strict attention to each of 
the virtues successively. Thus, in the first week, my great 
guard was to avoid even the least offense against temperance ; 
leaving the other virtues to their ordinary chance, only mark- 
ing every evening the faults of the day. Thus, if in the first 
week I could keep my first line, n>arked T, clear of spots, I 
supposed the habit of that virtue so much strengthened, and 
its opposite weakened, that I might venture extending my at- 
tention to include the next, and for the following week keep 
both lines clear of spots. Proceeding thus to the last, I could 
get through a course complete in thirteen weeks, and four 
courses in a year. And, like him, who, having a garden to 
weed, does not attempt to eradicate all the bad herbs at once, 
which would exceed his reach and his strength, but works on 
one of the beds at a time, and, having accomplished the first, 
proceeds to a second ; so I should have, I hoped, the en- 
couraging pleasure of seeing on my pages the progress made in 
virtue, by clearing successively my lines of their spots ; till, 
in the end, by a number of courses, I should be happy in 
viewing a clean book, after a thirteen weeks' daily examina- 
tion." 

182. Maxim of Epictetus. — The wise Epictetus gives us 
the same advice as Franklin : "If you would not be of an 
aijgry temper," he says, " then do not feed the habit. Be 
quiet at first, then count the days where you have not been 
angry. You will say : ' I used to be angry every day ; now 
every other day ; then every third or fourth day, and if you 
miss it so long as thirty days, offer a sacrifice to God." * He 
said, moreover : " If you will practice self-control, take, when 
it is warm and you are thirsty, a mouthful of fresh water, and 
spit it out again, and tell no one." 

183. Individual character— Cicero's maxims.— The phi- 

* Epictetus, II., xviii. ^T. W. Hi^ginson'a tVJtnsl.). 



33 G ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

losophers whom we have just cited give us rules to combat 
and correct our temperament when it is vicious. Cicero, on 
the contrary, gives us others to maintain our individual char- 
acter and remain true to it ; and these rules are no less useful 
than the others. He justly observes that every man has his 
own inclinations which constitute his individual and original 
character. " Some," he says, " are more agile in the foot- 
race ; others stronger at wrestling ; these are more noble, 
those more graceful ; Scaurus and Drusus were singularly 
grave ; Lselius, very merry ; Socrates was playful and amusing 
in conversation. Some are simple-minded and frank, others, 
like Hannibal and Fabius, more crafty. In short, there is an 
infinite variety of manners and differences of character without 
their being for that blamable."* 

Now, this is a very sensible principle of Cicero, that we 
ought not to go against the inclinations of our nature when 
they are not vicious : 

^' In constraining our talents 
We do nothing gracefully " 

said the fabulist. " Let each of us then know his own dis- 
position, and be to himself a severe judge concerning liis own 
defects and qualities. Let us do as the players who do not 
always choose the finest parts, but those best suited to their 
talent, ^sopusf did not often play the part of Ajax." 
Cicero in this precept, " that every one should remain true to 
his individual character," goes so far as to justify Cato's sui- 
cide, for the reason that it accorded with his character. 
" Others," he says, " might be guilty in committing suicide ; 
but in the case of Cato, he was right ; it was a duty ; Cato 
ought to have died." \ This is carrying the rights and duties 
of the individual character somewhat far; but it is certain 
that, aside from the great general duties of humanity, which 
are the same for all men, each individual man has a role to 

* De Officiis, I., xxx. 

+ The gr(!atf;.st tragic, actor at Rome, and a contemporary of Roscius, the greatest 
comic actor. — Translator. 
X De Officiis, I., xxxi. 



MORAL MEDICINE AND GYMNASTICS. 337 

play on earth, and this role is in part determined by our 
natural dispositions ; now, we should yield to these disposi- 
tions, when they are not vicious, and should develop them. 

184. Self-examination. — Finally, what is especially im- 
portant, considered from a practical standpoint and in the 
light of moral discipline, is, that each one should render him- 
self an exact account of his own disposition, his defects, oddi- 
ties, vices, so that he be able to correct them. Such was 
the practical sense of that celebrated maxim formerly inscribed 
over the temple at Delphi : " Know thyself." This is Socrates' 
own interpretation of it in his conversations with his dis- 
ciples : " Tell me, Euthydemus, have you ever gone to 
Delphi?" — " Yes, twice." — -"And did you observe what is 
WTitten somewhere on the temple-wall : Know Thyself ? " — - 
"I did." — "Think you that to know one's self it is enough to 
know one's own name 1 Is there nothing more needed ? And 
as those who buy horses do not think they know the animal 
they wish to buy till they have examined it and discovered 
whether it is obedient or restive, vigorous or weak, swift or 
slow, etc., must we not likewise know ourselves to judge what 
we are really worth?" — -"Certainly." — "It is then obvious 
that this knowledge of himself is to man a source of much 
good, whilst being in error about himself exposes him to a 
thousand evils. Those who know themselves well, know 
what is useful to them, discern what they can or cannot do ; 
now, in doing what they are capable of doing, they procure 
the necessaries of life and are happy. Those who, on the con- 
trary, do not know themselves, fail in all their enterprises, 
and fall into contempt and dishonor."* 

185. Examination of the conscience. — To know one's self 
Avell, it is necessary to examine one's self. Hence a practice 
often recommended by moralists, and particularly Christian 
moralists, known also by the ancients, namely, the examina- 
t/o:i of the conscience. 

There is a fine picture of it in Seneca's writings : " We 

* Memorabilia of Socrates, IV., iv. 

15 



338 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

should," says the philosopher, " call, every day, our conscience 
to account. Thus did Sextius ; when his daily work was done, 
he questioned his soul : Of what defect hast thou cured thy- 
self to-day 1 What passion hast thou combated 1 In what hast 
thou become better 1 What more beautiful than this habit of 
going thus over the whole day ! . . . I do the same, antl be- 
ing my own judge, I call myself before my own tribunal. 
When the light has been carried away from my room, I begin 
an inquest of the whole day ; I examine all my actions and 
words. I conceal nothing, allow myself nothing. And why 
should I hesitate to look at any of my faults when I can say 
to myself : Take care not to do so again : for to-day I forgive 
thee?"* 

To designate all the practices which experience of life has 
suggested to the moralists, to induce men to better, correct, 
perfect themselves in right doing, would be an endless task. 
No better method in tliis respect than to read the Christian 
moralists: Bossuet, Fenelon, Nicole, Bourdaloue. The advice 
they give concerning the proper use of time, opportunities, 
temptations, false shame, loose conversations, perseverance, can 
be applied to morals as well as to religion. Reading, medita- 
tion, proper company, good advice, selection of some great 
model to follow, etc., are the principal means we should em- 
ploy to perfect ourselves in the right : " If we extirpated and 
uprooted, every year, a single vice only, we should soon be- 
come perfect men." f 

186. Kant's Catechism. — An excellent practice in moral 
education is what Kant calls a moral catechism, in which the 
master, under the form of questions and answers, sums up the 
jH'inciples of morality. The pupil learns thereby to account 
, for ideas of which he is but vaguely conscious, and which he 
often confounds with principles of another order, with the in- 



* Seneoa, on Anger, III., 38. To tell tlio truth, Seneca forgave himself sometimes 
too easily perhaps, as, for example, on the day when he defended the murder of 
Agrippina ; we are often too much disposed to imitate him. 

t Imitation of Jems Christ I., xi. 



MORAL MEDICIKE AJ^D GYMNASTICS. 330 

stinct of happiness, for example, or the consideration of self- 
interest. 

The following are some extracts from Kant's Moral Cate- 
chism.* 

Teacher. — What is thy greatest and even thy only wish on 
earth 1 

The pupil remains silent, f 

Teacher. — Is it not always to succeed in everything accord- 
ing to thy wishes and will ? How do we call such a state ? 

The pupil remains silent. 

Teacher. — We call it happiness (namely, constant prosperity, 
a life all satisfaction, and to be absolutely content with one's 
condition). jSTow, if thou hadst in thy hands all possible 
earthly happiness, wouldst thou keep it wholly to thyself, or 
share it with thy fellow-beings 1 

Pupil. — I should share it with them ; I should make others 
happy and contented also. 

Teacher. — This already shows that thou hast a good heart. 
Let us see now if thou hast also a good judgment. Wouldst 
thou give to the idler soft cushions ; to the drunkard wine in 
abundance, and all else that will produce drunkenness ; to 
the rogue agreeable manners and a line presence, that he 
might the more easily deceive ; to the violent man, audacity 
and a strong fist '] 

Pupil. — Certainly not. 

Teacher. — Thou seest then that if thou heldst all happiness 
in thy hands, thou wouldst not, without reflection, distribute 
it to each as he desires ; but thou wouldst ask thyself how far 
he is worthy of it. Would it not also occur to thee to ask 
thyself whether thou art thyself worthy of happiness 1 

Pupil. — Undoubtedly. 

* Doctrine de la Vertu, trad. fr. p. 170. 

We give here this catechism as an example of what might be done in a course of 
morals. The teacher can modify its form and developments as he thinks best. 

t We can see by this that Kant understood youth. In a Socratic interrogation of 
this kind, the pupil, distrusting his powers, will always begin by being silent. It is 
only when he perceives that he knows what was asked him, that he ventures to an- 
swer, and answers well. 



340 ELEMENTS OF MORALS 

Teacher. — Well, then, that which in thee inclines to happi- 
ness, is called inclination; that which judges that the first 
condition to enjoy happiness is to be worthy of it, is the rea- 
son ; and the faculty thou hast to overcome thy inclination by 
thy reason, is lihertij. Eor example, if thou couldst without 
injuring any one procure to thyself or to one of thy friends a 
great advantage by means of an adroit falsehood, what says 
thy reason ? 

Pupil. — That I must not lie, whatever great advantage may 
result from it to me or to my friend. Falsehood is degrading, 
and renders man unworthy of being happy. There is in this 
case absolute necessity imposed on me by a command or pro- 
hibition of my reason, and which should silence all my incli- 
nations. 

Teacher. — ^^'hat do we call this necessity of acting conform- 
ably to the law of reason 1 

Pupil. — We call it duty. 

Teacher. — Thus is the observance of our duty the general 
condition on which we can alone be worthy of happiness. To 
be woHhy of happiness and to do one's duty is one and the 
same thing. 



APPENDIX* TO CHAPTER VIII. 



THE UKIOI^ OF CLASSES. 

A SUBJECT which has attracted much attention, and which is often 
referred to in conversation, in books, in political assemblies, is the 
various classes of society ; there are upper and lower classes, and be- 
tween these two, a middle class. We speak of laboring classes, poor 
classes, rich classes. These are expressions which it were desirable 
should disappear. They relate to ancient customs, ancient facts, and 
in the present state of society correspond no longer to situations now 
all clearly defined. They are vestiges which last long after the facts to 
which they corresponded have disappeared, and which retained are often 
followed by grave consequences. They give rise to misunderstanding, 
false ideas, sentiments more or less blame wortliy. I should like to 
show that in the present state of society, there are no longer any classes, 
that there are only men, individuals. The word classes, in a strict 
sense, can be applied only to a state of societ}' Avhere social and natural 
advantages are conferred by the law to certain men at the expense of 
others ; where some can procure these advantages whilst others never 
can ; where the public burden weighs on a certain class, on a certain 
number of men, whilst the others are entirely free from it, and this, I 
repeat, by the sanction of law, and by social organization. 

This state of things has existed, with more or less differences and 
notably great changes, in all past centuries. Its lowest degree is, for 
example, that where it is impossible for certain men to procure to them- 
selves the goods desired by all, where they can never own any kind of 
property, however small, where they are themselves considered j)rop- 
erty ; where, instead of being allowed to sell and buy, they are them- 
selves sold and bought, themselves reduced to an object of commerce. 
This state is that called slavery. 

Slavery, in its strict sense, is the state where man is the property of 

* We give this as a useful supplement to Chapter VIII. It is a lecture formerly 
delivered on the Union of Classes (18(57, Rexnie des cours litteraires, v., p. 42). . . "We 
beg to be pardoned for what negligences of style may have cn'.pt into the improvisa- 
tion. 



342 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. 

other men, is a thing ; where he is bought antl sold, and where his work 
does not belong to him, but to his master. 

This state of things existed through all anti([uity. Society, with the 
ancients, was divided into two great classes (the term is here perfectly 
in its place), classes very unequal in numbers, where the more numer- 
ous were the property of the least numerous. The citizens, as they were 
called, or freemen, who constituted a part of the State, the Republic, 
had no need of working to make a living, because they owned living 
instruments of work — men. 

This state of things, you well know, did not only exist in antiquity ; 
it was perpetuated till our days, and it is not very long since it still 
existed in some of the greatest societies of the world. We may consider 
it at present as wholly done away with. 

A notch higher, we find the state called serfdom, where man is not 
wholly interdicted to owm property, and where he is allowed a family, 
which fact constitutes the superiority of serfdom over slavery. It is ob- 
vious that in a state of slavery, there can be no family : a man, the prop- 
erty of another, liable to be bought and sold, can have no family. Serf- 
dom, which in the Middle Ages existed in all European societies, and 
but recently was abolished in Russia, allowed the individual a family, 
and in a certain measure even the right of property ; but he was a part 
of the land on which he was born, and, like that land, belonged to a 
master, a lord. 

The serf then was, as it is commonly called, attached to the glebe, to 
the land, unable to leave it, unable to buy or sell except under extremely 
restricted conditions, and thus a part of the soil on which he was 
born, he belonged with that soil to his lord. This state of things was 
gradually bettered. The serfs, little by little, ac(|uired by their work a 
small capital ; they succeeded in buying their liberty from their lords. 
It is this which gave rise to that ancient society, called ancien rigime, 
which preceded the French Revolution. But all men were not serfs ; 
things had not reached that point ; serfdom had already been abolished 
by means of certain contracts, certain sums of money which the work- 
ing-men paid as a sign of their former thraldom. Yet was there still in 
force much that was iniquitous, forming what is called an aristocratic 
society, where, for example, some men had the exclusive right of hold- 
ing and transmitting to their childron territorial property, which they 
were not allowed to put in trade, the exclusive right of holding jmblic 
functions, of having grades in the army, the right of hunting and fish- 
ing, etc. And conversely, on the other hand, whilst the minority 
enjoyed so exclusively all these privileges, the costs of society rested on 
the greater number, and these costs the serfs were obliged to pay. 
Hence a society in which there were classes, since the law conferred 



APPENDIX TO CHAPTER VIII. 343 

social advantages on some in preference to others, and heavy burdens 
resting on some Avithout resting on others. 

As it is not my purpose to write here the history of modern society, I 
need not enter into all the details of these facts, which are, besides, quite 
well known. 

You all know that these great social injustices and iniquitous prac- 
tices disappeared at the time of the Revolution, and that the principal 
object of the French Eevolution of 1789 was precisely to suppress all 
these privileges conceded to some, and these burdens unequally imposed 
on others. From that moment, there was equality in law, that is to 
say, that all men belonging to our present society are allowed to accumu- 
late property, exercise public functions, rise to higher grades — in a 
word, are considered fit to obtain all the advantages which society has 
to offer, and which nature allows them to desire and acquire. 

Since 1789, society, as a matter of course, has continued to move in 
the same grooves, and, thanks to work and competition, all that which 
still existed by way of social inequalities has gradually disappeared ; if, 
by chance, there still remain in our laws such vestiges of former inequal- 
ity, they will in time, and with the help of all enlightened men, disap. 
pear ; for it is now a truth fully recognized that the good of humanity 
demands that at least all legal inequalities should be done away Avith, 
and that all men, without distinction, should be allowed to acquire any 
-advantages which their special faculties, and the conditions wherein they 
are placed, enable them to acquire. I say, then, that this being the case, 
there is no reason why, in the present state of society, men should any 
longer be designated by classes. They are men, and men alone, and as 
such they should be allowed to enjoy common advantages, to live by 
their work — namely, to constitute themselves into families, to cultivate 
their intelligence, to worship God according to their conscience — in a 
word, to enjoy all the rights we call the rights of a man and citizen. 

But when in a society all legal inequalities have been suppressed, does 
it necessarily follow that an absolute e(]uality will be the final result ? 
No. Society can only do away with ine([ualities of its own making ; 
inequalities which, from causes we have not time here to set forth, were 
added to the already existing natural inequalities. For there are natural 
inequalities ; inequalities which may be called individual inequalities, 
there being no two pereons in the world exactly the same. From this 
fact alone — men being in a thousand ways different from each other — 
it necessarily follows that each man's (;ondition is different from that of 
his fellow-men. Hence an infinite multitude of inequalities which have 
always existed and always will exist, because they result from the 
'nature of things ; and such inequalities must be clearly distinguished 
from those dependent on the law. 



344 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

What noAV are the principal causes of these inequalities, which I call 
individual inequalities ? They are of two kinds : the inherent faculties 
of the individual, and the circumstances wherein he is placed. 

The faculties of the individual are the work of nature : they spring 
from his moral and physical organization ; and, as I have said above, 
there being no two men exactly alike, either physically or morally, it 
naturallj^ follows that there are differences, and these differences bring 
Avith them inequalities. Let us, for instance, take the most important 
of all these differences, namely, physical strength, health. Man is a 
living being, an organized being, and his organization is subject to the 
most delicate, most numerous, most complicated conditions. Hence 
many differences. Some are born strong, robust, able to brave all kinds 
of temperatures, all sorts of trials — trials of work, of outside events, 
sometimes the trials of their own excesses even. 

Others, on the contrary, are born with a feeble constitution ; they are 
weak, delicate, they cannot bear trials the same as the others. 

This is a first difference, and this difference, you well know, may be 
subdivided into a multitude of others ; for there are no two individuals 
equally healthy, equally strong. What will be the natural result ? 
This, for example : that where strength is required (and every one needs 
more or less physical strength to accomplish certain heavy works), the 
strongest \vill have the advantage over the others ; and, after a certain 
time, of two men wlio started at the same time, under the same condi- 
tions, with equal moral advantages, one, owing to his physical strength, 
shall have accomplished a great deal, and the other less ; one shall have 
earned much, the other little : their career is unequal. 

But it is not always the greater physical strength and health which 
determine in man his capacity for Avork ; and it is a notable fact, and a 
matter upon which it is well to insist, namely, that all differences are 
compensated for, balance themselves, so to say ; that such a one, for 
example, who, in some respect and from a certain point of view, may be 
inferior to anotlier, may from another standpoint be superior to him ; 
which, again, is as much as to say that tliere are no classes in society ; 
for if the one who in one respect is inferior to his fellow-man, is in another 
superior to him, they are equals. 

In the class called the laboiing class, for example, we see every day 
tliat it is not always the strongest and the liealthiest that produce the 
largest amount of work ; and love of v.'ork is a notable factor in this 
scale of physical strength, making the balance pretty even. For some 
delicate men are iiidustiious, Avhilst others Avho arc stronger are not ; 
some have a natural liking for their Avork, Avhilst others again have 
not. Hence a dilfcrence in the character of their work, and, conse- 
fiuently, in the remuneration of it. 



APPENDIX TO CHAPTER YIII. 345 

A third difference is that of the intelligence. All men have received 
from nature a special pjift Avhich distinguishes them from the animals, 
and which we call intelligence ; but they have not received it all to the 
same degree. Not all men have the same intellectual faculties, and 
every one knows how great an element of success intelligence is in all 
functions, in all departments of human activity, even in those requiring 
above all physical strength and the use of the hands. It is w^ell known 
that even the latter find in intelligence their best auxiliary ; that it 
procures them an invaluable advantage, even over those Avhose physical 
strength, facility, ardor, tenacity in work, would seem to forestall all 
rivalry. 

There is finally a fourth element which is also inherent in the indi- 
vidual man, and wdiich distinguishes one man from the other, and this 
is morality. We all know that morality, independently of its oavu 
merit, its incomparable, intrinsic merit, a merit which cannot be esti- 
mated by its fruits, is of itself alone one of the greatest factors in bring- 
ing about important results in practical life. We all know that even 
setting aside the intrinsic woi'th of morality — honesty, virtue — the work 
resulting from our physical efforts is greatly enhanced by this precious 
element. We all know that economy, sobriet}', a spirit of peace and 
concord, devotion to the family — in short, all moral elements — give to 
him who exercises them a vast superiority over his fellows who do not, 
despite his intellectual and physical disadvantages. 

When I say that morality is an element of inequality, I wish to be 
understood rightly. There are, it is true, moral inequalities among 
men ; and from these moral inequalities spring others ; but morality is 
not in itself a pi'inciple of inequality, for Avhat precisely constitutes 
morality, is that all men can equally attain to it ; that it wholly depends 
on the individual man to attain to it or not. So that if, on this point, 
a man finds himself inferior to another, he can blame no one for it but 
himself. 

Here, then, is a point Avhere the law is of no avail ; where it is evident 
that man is the master of his actions, and gains for himself what mo- 
rality he wishes ; if, then, there results from this a certain inequality 
among men, this inequality is to be attributed to the free-will of the 
individual man, who did not profit by the admirable gift Providence 
has endowed him with — namely, moral liberty — and by means of Avhich 
he can choose between the right and the wrong. 

You see, then, that there are many causes differentiating men from 
each other, and in such a manner that it is impossible to define them 
strictly. Vrc cannot say : there are on the one hand the strong, and on 
the other the weak ; on the one the intelligent, on the other the feeble- 
minded, because all these elements so combine as to compensate for one 



346 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

another. Once more, he who is least favored in one direction, may be 
better favored in another ; he who has an inferior share of intelligence 
and physical strength, may be the first in will-power. We can thus 
always fill out natural inequalities, and correct and overcome them by 
an effort of the will. 

Still, however that may be, and despite all effort of individual will- 
power and moral energy, there unquestionably result from these indi- 
vidual differences a multitude of different conditions among men. Be- 
sides, and independently of these purely inward causes due to both the 
physical and moral constitution of the individual man, there are yet 
outward causes of inequality. These are the circumstances, the condi- 
tions wherein we are born and live. 

We are all more or less dependent on the physical and social condi- 
tions which surround us. It is quite certain that birth, for example, is 
a circumstance wholly independent of the will of man. Some are born 
in the most favorable, some in the least favorable social conditions — 
some rich, some poor ; facts which depend neither on their constitution 
nor on their will. There are, moreover, still other outward circum- 
stances. One may be born in a rich, a civilized, an enlightened, a pro- 
gressive country, or in a poor, barbarous, benighted country. One 
may live in a place Avhere there is every means of education, of 
making a living, of improving one's self, where there may be a 
thousand favorable openings for a man, and again, on the contrary, 
in a i)lace far away from all civilization, without opportunities for 
work, without enlightenment, without means of communication with 
other men. All such circumstances are independent of the will of the 
individual man, and can only be corrected in time and through the 
progress of civilization, which gradually equalizes all countries. 

There are yet, besides all this, what is generally called the happy and 
unhappy chances of life. Everybody knows that human events do not 
always run as one would wish them, that things turn out more or less 
fortunately, as circumstances, and not men, order them. One may, for 
instance, get sick, when he has most need of health ; a wife loses her 
husband, the support of her family, when she has most need of him ; 
one may engage in an enterprise apparently founded on the best condi- 
tions of success : this enterprise fails on account of unexpected events, 
and without its being any one's fault. In commerce, for instance, we 
see every day the most unfortunate consequences of outward circum- 
stances, against whitdi one is utterly helpless, because, in commerce espe- 
cially, there is a large share to be left to chance, to the unknown, which 
no one can calculate beforehand. Now, all such unexpected events, as 
they are realized, overthrow all our jdans, and are cause that some attain 
to wealth, and others fall into poverty. Farmers particularly know but 



APPENDIX TO CHAPTER VIII. 347 

too well how dependent they are on outward circumstances. Cold, 
heat, rain, are for them elements of fortune or misery, and they are 
elements over which they have no control whatsoever. 

Now these elements, working blindly, as it would seem, are the chief 
cause of the great diversity of human conditions. Some, it is said, are 
lucky ; others are not ; some meet with favorable circumstances, others 
with contrary and fatal circumstances. Everything seems to co-operate 
toward crushing some, whilst everything again favors the success of 
others. These causes are innumerable, and could be rcultiplied ad in- 
finitum ; they explain the infinite variety of human conditions, how 
there are none exactly similar, and how there are consequently no two 
men exactly alike. 

They are equals as men, in the sense that they have the same rights 
to justice, to truth ; the same rights of conscience ; but they are not 
equals as to their circumstances, which circumstances, as we have seen, 
vary in every respect. But, it may be asked, why all these inequalities ? 
Why are some happy and others unhappy ? Why some rich, fortunate, 
powerful, intelligent, virtuous even ? (for it would almost seem that up 
to a certain point, virtue also depends on social position, since those who 
are born in a more elevated condition have greater facilities to exercise 
virtue) ; why are others, on the contrary, unfortunate, obliged to work so 
hard to arrive at such poor results ; to be scarcely able to make a living 
for themselves or their family ? Certainly these are indeed most grave 
and serious questions. But, what I contend for is, that it is not to so- 
ciety we should put these questions, but to Providence, who has made life 
what it is. Society can do but one thing, namely, not to add to natural 
inequalities, social ones. It can also, to a certain degree, lessen the 
natural inequalities ; but it is not wholly responsible for man's moral and 
physical constitution ; it is not wholly responsible for the course of events 
in the world ; so that if we would know why things are thus fashioned, 
we must rise higher ; we must not make our fellow-men or society in 
general answerable for them. I only add that, as legal inequalities disap- 
pear, so will the natural inequalities also vanish, and this is the essen- 
tial point. Natural inequalities cannot be wholly corrected, for the 
reasons above stated ; but as society, in doing away with legal in- 
equalities, strives to lessen the share of responsibility it has heretofore 
had in these inequalities, the natural inequalities must necessarily gi'ow 
less, and for the simple reason that avenues being opened to man to enjoy 
the fruit of his labor, and acquire the rights society holds now out to him, 
he will be able to fill out these natural inequalities. The inequality of 
intelligence was largely due to want of culture. As soon as men shall be 
educated, enlightened, shall themselves endeavor to learn, the differences 
in human intelligence will gradually disappear ; for it has been observed 



348 • ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

that as civilization progresses, the number of great men diminishes, and 
what was formerly called genius, is lost in the larger development of 
society. This may be only an illusion, for genius never changes ; only 
ias the existing ditierences among men become lessened, the inequalities 
which separated the great men from the rest are less obvious. 

Thus, the more you shall put into the hands of men, and if possible 
of all men, means for educating themselves, the more you will find 
these differences vanish ; the more will they grow like each other, the 
more will human intelligence become equalized. 

On the other hand, as social and legal inequalities disappear, public 
prosperity, public wealth, public comforts, will increase at the same 
rate. As the physical strength of men develops, so will the means of 
combating infirmities, diseases, all that weakened, enervated, depraved 
the populations, develop also. As the moral differences diminish (not 
indeed in the sense that every one will reach the same degree of virtue — 
that is impossible), the rudeness, the brutality, certain odious vices due 
to ignorance, to barbarous manners, to the insufficient means of com- 
munication with each other, will gradually disappear ; and thus, in 
respect to civilization also, will men grow more like each other. 

You see, then, that by culture, by the progress of civilization, all these 
inequalities due to outward circumstances, may be combated. Society 
at the present time, being more ingenious, more enlightened, more 
clever than in past days, has at its command a multitude of means 
wherewith, if not to destroy, at least to reduce the ill effects of outward 
chances. That, for example, which we call life-insurance, is very 
effective indeed in combating misfortune. By means of a small sacrifice, 
every man may in some respect protect himself against chances which 
formerly reduced a large part of the population to misery. It is the same 
with other similar societies of mutual assistance and benefit ; they will in- 
crease in proportion to general progress, and will largely counteract the un- 
happy results of such inequalities as may be combated by human industry. 

I go still further ; I maintain that the inequalities above noted not 
only should not be imputed to society, but not even to Providence. 
They are legitimate and useful ; they are the necessary stimulant to 
work. It is because of that very great variety of conditions that men 
make the proper efforts to better them, and that by these efforts, by 
this common labor, society progresses. 

Why does every one work ? Is it not that each sees above him a 
position he covets, and which he seeks to secure ? It is not the first of 
positions, nor the highest, for man does not think of those too far above 
him, nor should he ; but the next best, such as others like him 
occupy, he can attain. If he earns a little money only, he tries to earn 
more ; if he is only a workman, he may become a foreman ; if only a 



APPENDIX TO CHAPTER YIII. 349 

foreman, a master ; if only a master, a capitalist. He who is but a third 
clerk will want to be second clerk ; he who is second will want to be 
first ; and thus through the whole series of degrees. Now, it is just 
the possibility of securing a better situation than the one we are in that 
stimulates us to work and make the necessary efibrts. Suppose (a 
thing, of course, impossible) that all men could be assured of a sufficient 
quantity of daily bread equally distributed among them, human activity 
would at once come to a stop, human work would cease ; society would 
consequently become impoverished, and, becoming impoverished, even 
the small portion each one is satisfied with could no longer be possible, 
and they would have to fall back upon work again. "Work requires a 
stimulant, and it is the inequality of human conditions which furnishes 
this stimulant. 

Societies are like individuals. Every society has always before its 
eyes a condition better than the one it is in, a state of greater material 
prosperity, of greater intellectual development ; and it is because we 
long to reach that superior state that society strives after improvement. 
There are, indeed, societies that are indifferent to this ; that do not 
experience such a want ; but such peoples remain stagnant in their bar- 
barous ignorance ; they never advance. It is the civilized nations who 
are not satisfied with their condition, and where every one endeavors to 
better his own. "VVe should, therefore, look upon the inequalities which 
favor individual development, which assist the progress of the race, 
which excite every man to make an effort to better his condition, as 
truly desirable. 

I have demonstrated how the great legal inequalities which, before 
the French Revolution, authorized the division of society into classes, 
have now disappeared, and that what remains, and must of necessity 
remain, are the natural inequalities resting, on the one hand, on indi- 
vidual faculties, and on the other, on the diversity and the inequality 
of the conditions wherein we are placed. Let us now see whether in 
these conditions there is something requiring society to be divided into 
parts : — some people above, some below, some in the middle, and 
whether each of these parts should be called a class. I look in vain 
for anything whereon such distinctions could be based. Let us take 
the most natural fact which could serve as a basis for such distinctions 
— namely, fortune, wealth. 

It is said : there are the rich and the poor. But what more vague 
than such terms ? AYhere does poverty stop ? Undoubtedly, there are 
wretched people in all societies. There is no society wholly free of poor 
unfortunates, so unfortunate as to require the assistance of others. It 
is what we call beggary, and it exists in all societies. But this is not 
an element which may be said to constitute a class. It is not any more 



350 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

correct to say the class of beggars than the class of invalids. There are 
invalids in all societies, and we are all subject to becoming invalids, but 
we cannot say tliat there is a class of invalids. Those who are ill are 
to be pitied, but they do not, I repeat, constitute a class, which would 
allow us to divide society into two parts : a class of people that are well 
and people that are sick. The same with beggary ; it is an anomaly, 
an unfortunate exception to the rule, and very sad for those who are its 
victims, but it does not constitute a class. Yet it is not this we gener- 
ally understand by the poor and the rich classes. We understand by 
rich those who have a certain appearance of well-being ; and by poor 
those who work more or less with their hands. Now, there is nothing 
more false than such a distinction, for, among those called rich, there 
are many that are poor, and wealth and poverty are not generally abso- 
lutely different. It depends on the relations between the wants and 
the means of satisfying them. 

How many among physicians, lawyers, artists, for example — among 
men who belong to what we call the middle class — are, I ask, not only 
poor, but wretched ? How are we to know them ? What is it marks 
in society the rich and the poor ? Here we have, for instance, country 
people, good folks, who have never opened a book, who do not know A 
from B, and who are rich ; and again others of the middle class who 
are poor. The conditions in society so intertwine that it is impossible 
to cut it in two and say : these are the rich classes, these the poor. 
There is an infinite variety of degrees, each having some sort of prop- 
erty, the one more, the other less. In such a number of degrees it is 
impossible to distinguish precisely the beginning or the end. We 
admit these individual inequalities, and as many different conditions as 
there are individuals ; but there are no classes, and no one could tell 
their beginnings and ends. How could you determine the amount of 
property requisite to belong to either of these categories — the rich or 
the poor ? Shall you say that the rich man is he who has any capital, 
and the poor, he who has not any ? There are many people with capi- 
tal that are poor, and many without who are very well off. These are 
but arbitrary distinctions. 

Upon what, then, shall we base class differences ? On the profes- 
sions ? On those who exercise public functions and those who do not ? 
But this would, in the first jdace, be a very unequal division ; for the 
number of public functionaries is very small in comparison with the 
immense mass of people who have no public profession. And again, 
wherein is the public functionary superior to this or that merchant, 
this or that big farmer, this or that great builder or contractor ? It 
is impossible to say ; for in the hierarchy of functionaries there is also a 
top, a middle, a bottom, with an infinite variety of degrees in each. 



APPENDIX TO CHAPTEK VIII. 351 

Take the nobility. But Avho in these days troubles himself about aris- 
tocratic names 'i They are, unquestionably, valuable souveiiirs for those 
who can boast of them — of great historical names, for instance ; names 
which have played a part in history ; they are grand recollections to 
cherish and respect, but they give him who possesses them but very 
feeble advantages. It is not very long since there might have been 
found some legitimate ground for the class distinctions we are examin- 
ing, namely, in political rights, at a time when some few enjoyed polit- 
ical rights and a great many had none ; but this time has gone by, 
this inequality is also wiped out ; there are no more political classes 
than there are social classes. 

Shall we take material work — work of hand, as a class distinction 
among men ? We hear often the term laboring classes — men, namely, who 
live by work of hand ; but are not those who work with their brains, 
workers also ? There are a thousand kinds of work, and it is not 
absolutely necessary one should work with his hands to be a worker. 
Besides, there are many people working with their hands, who do not 
belong to what is usually understood by the laboring class : the painters, 
sculptors, chemists, surgeons ; all these people work with their 
hands. You see, then, that, look at it as you will, it will be very 
difficult to find distinctive signs whereby society could be divided into 
classes. 

There are groups of workers ; groups formed by the variety of work 
which has to be done. Everybody cannot do the same thing in society. 
Political economy teaches a very true and necessary law, called division 
of labor. In order that a certain piece of work be well done, its differ- 
ent parts must be distributed among those who are capable of executing 
them ; and the more each one will exclusively attend to the portion 
allotted to him, the better will the work be done. 

It is the same with society. Society is a great work-shop, a vast 
factory, where there are a great many different kinds of work to be done. 
Each must do his share. Hence various groups of workers. Some 
cultivate the land, because men must be fed ; some engage in industrial 
pursuits, for men must be clothed, must be housed against the inclem- 
encies of the weather ; then there is justice to be rendered ; there are 
some needed to protect the laborers ; men must also be educated and 
need educators. There are roads to be made, railroads to be laid, laws 
to be enforced, and all this gives rise to a multitude of functions, a large 
number of groups of workers, each working in the line which has been 
determined, more or less, by birth, circumstances, or natural ability. 
Shall we still say that each of these groups forms a class? Shall it be 
the military class, because it is composed of soldiers ; the class of ec- 
clesiastics, because composed of priests ; the teaching class, because 



352 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 

composed of teachers ? In no wise. Then should we neither speak of 
the laboring classes — of the middle classes. 

There is, I repeat, but one societ}^ and that society coniposed of an 
infinite number of individuals ; all differing from each other by reason 
of their various natural endowments and the outward conditions in 
Avhich they are placed. They are subdivided into groups which more or 
less blend with each other, are more or less dependent on each other. 

There is, however, a sign whereby men may be distinguished from 
each other, and that is education : difference in instruction and culture ; 
and this is in these days the only kind of difference that can still exist 
among them. 

How is this to be remedied ? In two ways : in observing the duties 
of society and the duties of individuals. Society at this present moment 
is doing all in its power to bring education within the reach of all, and 
according to the particular need of each. Of course all are not obliged 
to learn the same things. Even among the most enlightened, there are 
some who, relatively to others, are quite ignorant. So that there are 
degrees here also. But still there is a certain common ground of 
customary, useful, necessary knowledge, which brings all together : — 
the education common to all, and which is as a bond between them. 
Society is doing its best in extending this education, propagating it, 
developing it ; and men should do their best toward it. It depends, 
therefore, on the individual man to do away with this last inequality. 
It behooves us, then, to disseminate education and instruction, as far as 
it lies in our power ; and it behooves those who have not yet enjoyed it 
to make every effort to improve themselves. 

Finally, connected with education, there is a feature wliich also es- 
tablishes a certain difference between men : good manners ; good habits ; 
good morals ; all of which are distinguishing, differentiating, traits. On 
whom is it incumbent to do away with such inequalities ? On us all. 
Each of us, in his own individual s[)here of life, must break down the 
barrier that separates him from the one above him ; he must rise up to 
him, not so much through morality, for morality is the same below 
as above, but through his manners, his habits, his dignity, sobriety, 
politeness, he must win his esteem. 

This is accomplished rather through education than instruction, for 
it is education that makes men good-natured, so that it will be through 
education that the last inequality between men will be effaced. 

I say, then, that we should as much as possible work toward this end, 
and above all avoid using expressions which tend to separate men from 
each other. These expressions belong to a past age ; they were per- 
petuated by usage, and still uphold certain imaginary rights, and modes 
of thinking — certain prejudices and sentiments wliich divide society into 



APPENDIX TO CHAPTER VIII. 353 

two parts, and cause it to believe that it is so divided from necessity. 
In indulging in such prejudices, what in fact is but an imaginary divi- 
sion becomes a real one. 

It is, therefore, this imaginary division of classes which must be 
done away with ; for it is from the imagination tha.t all these feelings of 
distrust, and jealousy, and ill-will generally spring ; and they should be 
combated resolutely, for they carry with them very lamentable conse- 
quences. The remedy is where the evil is. These old prejudices 
residing in the imagination, it is the imagination we should correct. 
AYe must accustom ourselves to think differently ; we must look upon 
ourselves not as belonging to a particular class, but to one and the same 
society, a society of men, men all equals and in different social condi- 
tions, all entitled to the same rights. 

It is, therefore, in reciprocal good feeling, in the heart of men rather- 
than in any legal reform, that the true safety of society resides. We 
must give up those old notions which cause some to imagine that they 
are oppressed, or threatened, or prevented to rise in the social scale, and 
others, that they run the danger of being dispossessed of their privileges. 
There is in such antagonism far greater danger than in the actual evils 
both sides complain of. 

To do away with it only requires reciprocal good- will, kindness, 
readiness to understand each other. The reform which has taken place 
in our laws, must take place in our minds also. Class feeling must be 
suppressed, and there will then appear a truly human society, all being 
united by brotherly love. 



